Filthy Girl @dirtyl0ver - Tumblr Blog

Sweet Tooth - Part 4 (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

CW: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, semi-public sex, hatchet play, overstimulation, degradation, praise, squirting, minor blood play, danger, fear play, bj, sexting, violence, blood, physical fight, insults, toxic relationship, jealousy, drug use, smoking, harrassment, emotional whiplash, insecurities, petty crime, strong language, obsessive behavior, emotional distress, emotional manipulation, moral ambiguity, featuring appearances by Tim, Brian, Ben, Jeff, and Jack

Summary: Your relationship with Toby is equal parts sweet, filthy, and completely messy. One thing leads to another, and what was supposed to be a simple night out turns into drama, tension, and a whole lot of chaos.

Wordcount: 24k

Part 1: HERE Part 2: HERE Part 3: HERE

The clock on your nightstand read just past 3:30 AM. You should have been asleep hours ago, but sleep refused to come. You were sprawled across your bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties, staring at the picture Toby had sent you five days ago. The screen glowed in the dim lamplight of your bedroom, illuminating his busted face in harsh detail: swollen eye, split lip, blood smeared across his chin, and those thick white bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and chest. He looked like absolute hell.

Yet somehow he was still stupidly, painfully cute.

You’d texted each other nonstop since that night. Random good-morning messages that turned into hour-long conversations, voice notes where his stammer made your chest feel warm, even one late-night phone call where he’d explained everything in that rough, tired voice. How Tim had shoved him first. How the fight had snowballed. How he’d buried a hatchet in Tim’s thigh and Brian had shot him in the shoulder.

And then the second bomb.

“I d-don’t… feel pain,” he’d admitted quietly over the phone, like he was scared you’d hang up. “Like, at all. It’s always been like that.”

You’d been worried sick ever since. The image of him bleeding out on the floor haunted you. The fact that he couldn’t even feel the damage somehow made it worse.

He was on house arrest now. Brian wasn’t letting either him or Tim leave the property until they were “healed and done being idiots,” as Toby had put it. Punishment and recovery all in one. You hated it. You hated that you couldn’t see him, touch him, make sure he was really okay with your own eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, clutching the phone to your chest. Tomorrow was finally Saturday. No night shift at the gas station. You were genuinely excited - Andy had been hyping up his DJ gig for days, and you’d already planned to stay out late, dancing and blowing off steam. But right now, all you could think about was Toby.

You missed him so much it ached.

You typed out a message before you could overthink it.

you:

still stuck at home? i miss your stupid face send me another pic so i know you’re not dead

You hit send and stared at the screen, chewing your lip. The little typing bubble popped up almost immediately.

boyfriend 🪓:

yeah brian is being a dick tim still cant walk right lol miss you more

A second later another message came through. A new photo.

Toby had clearly taken it in his room. He was shirtless, sitting up in his bed with his back against the wall. Fresh bandages on his shoulder, a nasty bruise blooming across his ribs, messy brown hair sticking up everywhere. But he was grinning that crooked, scarred grin straight at the camera, middle finger raised lazily. His neck was mid-tic, slightly blurred from the movement.

Underneath it:

boyfriend 🪓:

this better? still alive kinda bored tho wish you were here sitting on my face instead :))

Heat flooded your cheeks. You laughed under your breath, thighs pressing together instinctively.

you:

you’re such a whore i’m coming over

You typed it and immediately deleted it. Then typed it again. Deleted it again.

Brian and the others were terrifying. Showing up at their house unannounced after everything that happened sounded like a fantastic way to get yourself killed. But the longer you stared at that photo - at his tired eyes and that hopeful little grin - the less you cared.

you:

what if i snuck over? just for a little while i need to see you you can send me the address

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

boyfriend 🪓:

no you CANT come here its far as fuck brian is up my ass rn not a good idea sorry ill come to you soon

You stared at the messages, eyebrows furrowed. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. It was… weird. Why was he being so secretive about where he lived?

You didn’t want to push him - especially not after everything he’d already been through - but it felt suspicious as hell. What exactly was he hiding? More blood? Something worse?

You sighed and typed back, trying to keep it light.

you:

okay okay, relax i won’t come just… try to sneak out soon? or at least stop by the store i miss you fr

boyfriend 🪓:

yeah promise miss you more than you know :(

You chewed your lip for a second, then smirked. If he was going to be all mysterious and cagey, you could play dirty too.

You sat up on your bed, heart beating a little faster with mischief. You tugged your oversized t-shirt up over your tits, letting them spill free, then hooked your thumb into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down just enough. The angle was perfect - tits on full display, panties barely covering anything, your face cropped out except for your smirking mouth.

You snapped the photo, checked it once, and hit send before you could chicken out.

you:

[image attached] this is waiting for you 🖤

The typing bubble appeared instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. It felt like forever.

boyfriend 🪓:

holy fuck your tryin to kill me im so hard it hurts :’( fuck i need you so bad please send anothr one

You burst out laughing, falling back against your pillows with a giddy little squeal. Your face felt hot, thighs squeezing together as you reread his desperate replies. Even through the screen you could practically hear the stammer and the frantic tics in his voice.

you:

good boy maybe i’ll let you bury your face between my legs again

boyfriend 🪓:

fuuuuck yes ma’am gonna be such a good puppy for you

You were still smiling, thighs squeezed together, when another message came through.

boyfriend 🪓:

actually… i think i can sneak out tomorrow brian has a job at like 1:30 pm he’ll be gone for a while i can slip out around 2 meet me at the edge of the woods? not right by your house tho go a little further down the treeline, past the old broken fence and the big fallen pine tree there’s a small clearing with a bunch of rocks, kinda hidden you’ll see it when you get close just for a little while okay? i cant stay long

Your heart flipped with excitement. You sat up straighter, grinning at your phone.

you:

yes 2 pm sounds perfect i’ll be there just… be careful sneaking out, okay?

boyfriend 🪓:

i will cant wait to see you gonna be lookin at that picture all night :)

You set your phone down on the nightstand, a warm, fluttery feeling settling in your chest. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You’d get to see Toby in the afternoon, then head to Andy’s DJ gig in the evening and actually have some fun. The thought made it easier to finally turn off the lamp.

You pulled the covers up over yourself, plunging the room into darkness, and closed your eyes. Sleep still took its time coming, but at least now you had something wonderful to look forward to.

Toby’s cracked phone screen was still lit up with your photo - tits out, panties pulled down just enough to tease him with that glistening little wet spot between your thighs. His breath was already ragged.

“F-fuck…” he hissed under his breath.

He shoved his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs in one frantic motion, freeing his cock. It was already rock-hard, flushed dark and leaking at the tip from just that one picture.

He wrapped his hand around himself and started stroking fast - almost rough - eyes glued to your body on the screen. His hips jerked up into his fist with every stroke, the wet sound of skin on skin filling his messy room. His neck cracked sharply to the side, shoulders hitching violently as he imagined burying his face between those thighs again, tongue deep inside you while you called him your good puppy.

“Shit–y-your tits… so f-fucking perfect–” he muttered, voice hoarse and broken. His hand moved faster, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading the pre-cum leaking out of him.

It didn’t take long. He was too worked up, too desperate after days of being stuck in this house. His whole body twitched hard as he came with a choked groan, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist and onto his stomach. He kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop while staring at your photo.

When the last shudder finally left him, Toby let his head fall back against the pillow with a heavy sigh. He wiped his hand on his already ruined shirt, then kicked his pants the rest of the way off and just… lay there. Shirt pushed up to his chest, cum cooling on his skin, phone still loosely gripped in his other hand.

For a while he just chilled, scrolling back through your old messages, rereading the filthy ones with a stupid little grin tugging at his scarred mouth. His shoulder still felt numb under the bandages, and his ribs were bruised to hell, but none of it really mattered when he had you texting him shit like that.

Eventually his eyes grew heavy. He set the phone on his chest, still open to your picture, and let his mind wander. He thought about meeting you tomorrow afternoon in that hidden clearing. How he’d pull you behind the rocks, shove your shorts down, and have his way with you. He imagined the way you’d moan his name, fingers twisted in his messy hair while he ate you out until your legs shook. Then he’d bend you over, fuck you deep and desperate against a tree, biting your neck and whispering how you owned him while he filled you up.

The fantasies played on loop - soft and filthy and obsessive - until his breathing evened out and he finally drifted off, phone still glowing faintly against his chest.

The next morning dragged.

Toby woke up early, nerves and excitement already buzzing under his skin. He spent the first few hours pacing his room like a caged animal, shoulder twitching every few seconds, neck cracking sharply as he checked the time on his cracked phone over and over. He changed his hoodie twice. Brushed his teeth. Tried (and failed) to fix his messy brown hair. Every minute felt like an hour.

He kept replaying your messages in his head, especially that picture. The thought of seeing you in person again - touching you, smelling your skin, hearing you call him puppy - made his stomach flip with giddy anticipation.

Around 1:15 PM he finally heard movement downstairs. Brian’s low voice drifted up from the living room, talking to someone - probably Jack or Tim - in that clipped, no-nonsense tone he used when he was heading out on a job. Toby’s head jerked hard to the side as he froze by his bedroom door, listening.

Heavy boots on the stairs a few minutes later. Brian’s footsteps stopped right outside his room.

The door creaked open.

Brian stood there in his usual dark clothes, mask pushed up on top of his head, looking tired but alert. His eyes flicked over Toby - taking in the fresh hoodie, the restless twitching, the way he was clearly trying and failing to look casual.

“Heading out for a job,” Brian said flatly. “Should be back tomorrow afternoon. You’re staying here. No leaving the property. And I expect you to keep your shit together with Tim. No more fights. We clear?”

Toby rolled his eyes hard, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His neck twitched sharply to the left again.

“Y-yeah, whatever,” he muttered, voice low and annoyed. “Not gonna start shit.”

Brian narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. He stepped a little further into the room, voice dropping into that stern, older-brother tone that always grated on Toby’s nerves.

“I mean it, Toby. Stay put. Heal up. Don’t make me come looking for you when I get back. You’ve already caused enough problems this week.”

Toby’s shoulders hitched violently. He gave a short, sarcastic nod, refusing to meet Brian’s gaze directly.

“I h-heard you the f-first time. Jesus.”

Brian stared at him for a long second, jaw tight, like he wanted to say more but decided against it. Finally he exhaled through his nose and turned toward the door.

“Stay out of trouble,” he repeated one last time before heading downstairs.

Toby waited until he heard the front door slam shut and the truck rumble to life outside. The second the sound faded down the road, a wild, giddy grin split across his scarred face. His neck cracked sharply again as he practically bounced on his heels.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered to himself, already grabbing his hatchets and clipping them to his belt. His hands were shaking with excitement, tics coming faster now that he was finally free.

He slipped out of his room, heart pounding with giddy anticipation. The old wooden floorboards creaked faintly under his boots as he made his way down the hallway. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard muffled laughter drifting from Ben’s room - high-pitched, chaotic giggles mixed with Jeff’s raspy drawl. Sounded like the two of them were fucking around with something on Ben’s computer again. Good. That meant they were distracted.

He moved carefully down the stairs, keeping his steps light and uneven gait as quiet as possible. The house felt almost too still now that Brian was gone. He expected the living room to be empty.

He wasn’t that lucky.

The second he reached the bottom step, his neck twitched sharply to the side and his eyes landed on Tim.

The bigger man was sprawled across the couch like he owned it, leg propped up on a stack of old pillows, thick bandages visible under the fabric of his basketball shorts. Empty beer cans littered the coffee table and the floor around him. He was already on his fourth or fifth one of the day, judging by the pile. The TV droned in the background, some mindless action movie playing on low volume.

Tim’s head turned the instant Toby appeared. His eyes narrowed, mouth twisting into a disgusted scoff.

“Well, look at that,” Tim muttered, voice thick with beer and irritation. “Of course you're sneaking out the second Brian’s tires hit the road. Real fuckin’ classy, Toby.”

Toby froze for half a second, shoulders hitching hard. Then he rolled his eyes and kept walking toward the front door, jaw tight.

“I’m n-not the c-cripple here,” he shot back, voice low and edged with annoyance. “And nobody c-can fucking stop me from going out.”

Tim’s face darkened. He shifted on the couch, wincing slightly as his injured leg moved. “You little shit. Brian said stay put. You really that fuckin’ stupid?”

Toby’s neck cracked violently to the left again. He stopped near the door, turning just enough to glare back at Tim. “I’ll b-be back soon. It’s n-not a big deal. No need to be a f-fucking snitch… unless you w-want to lose the other leg.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ugly. Tim stared at him for a long beat, eyes burning with pure annoyance and something colder underneath. For a second it looked like he might actually reach for his phone. Then he shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Whatever.” Tim jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Go grab me another pack from the fridge. I’m a cripple now, remember?”

Toby’s shoulders hitched again. He stood there for a moment, jaw working, clearly debating telling Tim to fuck off. But the guilt - small, annoying, and unwanted - twisted in his chest. Tim looked pathetic like this: leg fucked up because of him, surrounded by empty cans, stuck on the couch while everyone else moved on.

With a heavy sigh, Toby turned and stalked into the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge, grabbed a fresh cold six-pack, and brought it back. He dropped it unceremoniously onto the coffee table next to the mountain of empties.

“Here,” Toby muttered. “I’ll b-be back soon.”

Tim didn’t even look at him. He just hummed, low and annoyed, eyes glued to the TV as he cracked open a new can with a sharp hiss.

Toby lingered for half a second longer. A flicker of something like regret passed through him - this was still Tim, the guy who’d dragged him through more shit than he could count - but he pushed it down. He didn’t say anything else.

He turned and slipped out the front door, letting it click shut quietly behind him. The second the warm afternoon air hit his face, the giddy excitement came rushing back full force. He adjusted the hatchets on his belt and disappeared into the treeline, heading toward the hidden clearing to wait for you.

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, turning side to side with a satisfied little smile. After hours of anticipation, you’d finally finished getting ready. Your hair fell in loose, shiny waves down your back, soft and bouncy after you’d taken the time to style it. A fresh layer of glossy lip gloss made your lips look shiny and inviting, catching the afternoon light every time you moved. You’d chosen a cute low-cut tank top that hugged your chest nicely and showed off just enough cleavage, paired with your favorite denim shorts that sat low on your hips, the frayed edges brushing your thighs.

You adjusted the hem of your top one last time, tugging it down slightly before smoothing your hands over your hips. A giddy little giggle escaped you as you checked yourself from another angle.

“God, I look good,” you muttered to your reflection, biting your glossy lip. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild. After days of nothing but texts and some blurry photos of his injured face, you were finally going to see Toby again. Touch him. Feel him.

The thought made heat flush across your skin.

You grabbed your phone, slid it into your back pocket, then slipped on your sneakers. One last look in the mirror - you blew yourself a playful kiss - before heading out the front door.

The afternoon sun was warm and bright, a perfect Saturday contrast to the late-night texting session that had led to this. Your heart raced with excitement as you locked the door and started walking toward the treeline. You followed the path Toby had described: staying along the edge of the woods rather than cutting straight through them.

Even though you’d lived near these woods your whole life, you’d only ever stayed on the very edge. You’d heard too many stories - people disappearing without a trace, hunters finding bodies months later, strange lights and screams in the night. The woods had a reputation. A bad one. So you kept to the clearer, sunlit path that ran parallel to the treeline, the tall pines casting long shadows across the grass.

As you walked, the warm breeze tugged at your hair and made the hem of your shorts brush against your thighs. You couldn’t stop smiling. In just a few minutes you’d see him - your twitchy, needy puppy with his crooked grin and those intense dark eyes.

A sudden rustle in the underbrush made you pause.

You turned your head just in time to see a graceful deer step out from between the trees, only about twenty feet away. It froze the moment it spotted you, large dark eyes locking onto yours. The deer was beautiful - sleek brown coat dappled with sunlight, ears twitching nervously.

You stopped walking and smiled softly, keeping your voice gentle.

“Hey… you’re really pretty,” you murmured.

The deer didn’t bolt. It just stood there, staring at you with an almost unnerving stillness. Its ears flicked once, twice, but it didn’t move. For a long moment the two of you simply watched each other.

You let out a quiet laugh. “The woods are full of you guys, huh? Must be hunters everywhere this time of year.”

The deer tilted its head slightly, still staring. Something about its gaze felt… off. Too calm. Too focused. But you shook the weird feeling away. It was just a deer. These woods were crawling with them.

You hummed a little tune under your breath, offering the animal one last smile before continuing down the path. The deer watched you go for a few more seconds, then disappeared back into the trees with a soft rustle of leaves.

You kept walking, the hidden clearing with the rocks and fallen pine tree coming into view up ahead. Your pulse quickened with every step. Toby was probably already waiting for you.

The thought made you pick up your pace, excitement bubbling over into a bright, hopeful smile.

You kept walking along the treeline until the big fallen pine tree came into view, exactly where Toby had described. And there he was.

Toby leaned casually against the thick, weathered trunk, one boot propped up behind him as he idly toyed with a small branch in his hands, snapping off little twigs. He wore dark jeans and a loose navy hoodie, the hood pushed back so his messy brown hair stuck up in every direction. His face was fully exposed - no bandana today - and the twin hatchets hung heavy from his belt, handles bumping lightly against his thighs with every small movement.

The second you stepped into the small clearing, his head snapped up. His dark eyes lit up with pure, unrestrained joy, that crooked, scarred grin splitting across his face instantly.

You didn’t hesitate. Your feet carried you forward faster, almost running the last few steps. Toby straightened up and opened his arms wide, and you practically crashed into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He caught you just as eagerly, strong scarred hands splaying across your lower back as he pulled you flush against his chest.

“F-fuck… hi,” he breathed into your hair, voice rough with emotion. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply like he’d been starving for it. His body swayed gently with you, restless energy humming under his skin as his shoulders hitched once, twice. You could feel the rapid crack of his neck as a tic jerked through him.

You clung to him for a long moment, eyes stinging with relief. He smelled like pine, faint smoke, and that familiar metallic edge that always clung to him. God, you’d missed this.

When you finally leaned back just enough to look at him, you couldn’t stop smiling. “I missed you so much,” you whispered, one hand coming up to gently cup his bruised jaw. Your thumb brushed carefully over the fading yellow-green marks on his cheek, then traced the thick scar that ran along his face with feather-light touches. “So, so much.”

Toby’s eyes fluttered half-closed at the gentle contact. You leaned in and kissed him - soft at first, then deeper as his mouth opened against yours. Your fingers slid into his messy brown hair, threading through the strands and tugging lightly. He groaned quietly into the kiss, one hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively.

Eventually you pulled back, breathing a little faster. You gave his chest a gentle push and took a small step away, eyes roaming over him.

“Alright… let’s see the damage,” you said, voice softening with worry. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Toby.”

He let out a low, sheepish chuckle, his neck cracking sharply to the side again. “It’s n-not that b-bad,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I t-told you… I don’t feel pain. Like, at all.”

Still, he reached down and carefully shrugged off his hoodie, letting it drop onto the fallen log beside him. Your breath caught.

It was brutal.

Thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his left shoulder and upper chest, already showing faint pink stains in places. Dark bruises bloomed across his ribs and torso in ugly shades of purple, blue, and yellow. The bullet wound on his shoulder looked especially bad even covered - swollen and angry beneath the gauze. He stood there shirtless in the afternoon light, scarred and battered, but still watching you with that shy, hopeful little grin.

You gasped softly, stepping closer again. “Toby… this is so bad,” you whispered, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers over the edge of the bandages on his ribs. His skin was warm under your touch.

He shrugged one shoulder, cheeks flushing faintly under the scars. “It w-was worth it,” he said quietly, dark eyes locked on yours. “Nobody’s allowed to d-disrespect you like that. Not even them.”

You looked up into his eyes, a weak, conflicted smile tugging at your lips. The fierce protectiveness in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest even as worry gnawed at you. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss right over the bandages on his shoulder, then another on his bruised ribs, holding him gently as you did.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his skin.

Toby’s breath hitched. His hand came up to stroke through your hair, fingers gentle despite the calluses and scars. “You’re s-so beautiful,” he said, voice low and sincere, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I c-couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You hummed happily, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his uninjured side, breathing him in. For a moment everything felt perfect - just the two of you in the quiet clearing, sun filtering through the trees.

Then your gaze drifted downward.

The twin hatchets still hung at his hips, handles catching the light with that dull, wicked gleam. A small shiver ran through you. No matter how many times you saw them, you didn’t know if you’d ever fully get used to it.

You pulled back slightly, fingers absently tracing the hem of his jeans near one of the handles. “Why’d you bring them?” you asked softly.

Toby glanced down at the weapons, then shrugged, that crooked grin returning. “H-habit,” he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Never really go anywhere without them.”

You reached down and lightly touched one of the hatchets at his hip, your fingers tracing the smooth wooden handle. The metal was cool and heavy under your touch. You hummed softly, still a little fascinated and unsettled by them, before looking back up at Toby. He watched you with dark, hungry eyes.

You rose onto your toes and kissed him again - slow and deep, your tongue sliding against his as your hands cupped his scarred face. When you pulled back, your voice was soft and sweet.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me, Toby,” you murmured, thumb stroking his cheek. “Going through all of that… getting hurt so badly just because someone disrespected me. I just want to take care of you now.”

Toby’s breath hitched. His neck cracked sharply to the side, and he nodded eagerly, eyes glassy with need. “I’d d-do anything for you,” he rasped, voice thick. “Anything.”

You smirked, a wicked little thrill running through you at how quickly he melted under praise.

“Good,” you purred. “Then let me make you feel really good, puppy.”

You sank slowly to your knees in front of him on the soft forest floor, the fallen pine needles cushioning you. Toby groaned loudly at the sight, his cock visibly twitching in his jeans as he stared down at you.

“F-fuck…” he breathed.

You reached up first and carefully unclipped both hatchets from his belt, handling them with cautious curiosity. They were heavier than they looked. You ran your fingers along the flat of one blade for a moment, humming softly to yourself, before setting them both safely aside on the ground near the log, well out of the way.

Then your hands returned to him.

You popped the button of his jeans slowly and dragged the zipper down, peeling the fabric open. His hard cock strained against the front of his boxers, a small wet spot already forming where he was leaking. You leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over the bulge, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric.

Toby’s hips jerked forward instinctively.

You giggled, resting your cheek against his clothed cock and looking up at him through your lashes. “How much did you miss me, baby?”

His hand came down to rest gently on the top of your head, fingers threading carefully into your hair. He was breathing hard already, chest rising and falling rapidly. “So f-fucking much,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Thought about you every day… every night…”

He leaned back heavily against the fallen pine tree for support, one hand braced on the rough bark beside him. His hips twitched again, trying to press closer to your mouth.

You giggled softly. “So impatient,” you teased, rubbing your cheek against the hard length of him through the boxers before dragging your lips along the outline. You mouthed at him lazily, pressing wet kisses up and down his clothed shaft while your hand cupped and gently squeezed his balls through the fabric.

Toby let out a broken whimper, fingers tightening in your hair. His neck cracked sharply again, shoulders hitching as another tic rolled through him.

Finally, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick and flushed dark, curving slightly upward with a bead of pre-cum already dripping from the tip. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving him one slow, firm stroke as you looked up at him.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whispered, leaning in to drag your tongue slowly from the base all the way up to the head. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, before sucking just the head into your warm mouth.

Toby moaned loudly, head falling back against the tree. “Oh f-fuck– yes–”

You took your time, savoring him. You bobbed your head slowly, taking more of him into your mouth inch by inch, your tongue pressing flat along the underside of his shaft. The wet, obscene sounds of your mouth filled the quiet clearing. You hollowed your cheeks on the way up, sucking hard, before sliding back down until he bumped against the back of your throat.

You kept one hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with your mouth, while the other rested on his thigh, feeling the muscles tremble under your touch. Every few strokes you pulled off to tease him more - licking long stripes up the vein on the underside, kissing and sucking gently on his balls, then licking back up to swirl around the head again.

Toby was losing it above you. His hand stayed in your hair, hips jerking in shallow, desperate little thrusts, but you kept control, pulling back whenever he got too eager.

“P-please–” he whimpered, voice cracking. “Feels so good… your mouth– f-fuuuck–”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch hard on your tongue. You took him deeper again, relaxing your throat and swallowing around the head until your nose brushed the messy hair at his base. You held there for a few seconds, eyes watering slightly, before pulling back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock.

You stroked him firmly with your hand while you caught your breath, thumb rubbing over the slick head. “You’re doing so good for me,” you praised softly, kissing the tip. “Such a good puppy, letting me play with you.”

You dove back in, sucking him with renewed enthusiasm - faster now, but still careful not to let him tip over the edge. Every time his breathing grew too ragged and his thighs started to shake, you slowed down or pulled off completely, licking lazily along his length until he was whining and twitching.

His thighs trembled, hips jerking forward in short, desperate thrusts as he chased the heat of your mouth. His hand tightened gently in your hair, holding on for dear life. Broken whimpers and choked moans spilled from his lips between every sharp crack of his neck and violent hitch of his shoulders.

“P-please– fuck, please– I’m so close– I’m gonna– l-let me cum, please–” he begged, voice wrecked and cracking. His cock throbbed hard against your tongue, leaking steadily.

You pulled off him with a wet pop at the last possible second, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You looked up at him with a wicked little smirk, stroking him slowly with one hand.

“Aww, c’mon,” you mocked softly, voice sweet and teasing. “You’re really gonna cum already? Before you even get to fuck me? After I’ve been waiting days for you?”

Toby groaned loudly, head falling back against the tree with a thud. His neck cracked sharply to the side again. “N-no– fuck, I’m s-sorry– I just– you feel too good–”

You kept stroking him lazily, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of his throbbing shaft. “Don’t I deserve to get fucked too, Toby? You’ve been holding out on me for days… and now you’re just gonna bust in my mouth like a desperate little loser?”

His face went bright red under the scars, eyes glassy and desperate. “I’m s-sorry– I’m really fucking sorry– I’ll hold it, I-I won’t cum y-yet, I swear– please–”

You giggled softly and kissed the leaking tip again, tasting him. The power rush felt intoxicating.

Then, without fully thinking it through, something darker and thrilling took over. You reached over and picked up one of the hatchets from the ground, pulling it smoothly from its holder. The weight felt heavy and dangerous in your hand.

Toby’s eyes widened, a loud groan ripping out of him as he watched you stand up slowly, still holding his weapon. Something visibly snapped behind his eyes. It was almost worryingly hot, the way his scarred face twisted with raw, unfiltered hunger. Like the sight of you wielding the tool he’d killed with unlocked something feral and dangerous inside him.

You giggled, standing in front of him with the hatchet in your grip. “If you don’t get your shit together and stop being so impatient,” you purred, voice low and teasing, “I might have to punish you.”

“F-fuuuck…” Toby moaned, one hand immediately dropping to wrap around his cock, stroking himself slowly at the sight of you. His dark eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing almost all the color. “You look so fucking hot like that… holding my hatchet… shit–”

You stepped closer, pressing the flat of the blade lightly against his bare chest, right over his racing heart. Toby shivered hard, another violent tic jerking his shoulders. You traced the cool metal slowly upward, watching his breath hitch with every inch. Then you carefully brought the blade to rest against the side of his throat - not pressing hard enough to cut, just enough for him to feel the danger.

His pulse hammered visibly against the steel.

“Be a good boy,” you whispered, “and help me with these shorts.”

Toby’s hands moved instantly, almost frantically. He kept his head perfectly still, eyes locked on yours as his fingers worked the button and zipper of your denim shorts. The blade stayed right against his throat while he tugged your shorts and panties down your legs in one shaky motion. You stepped out of them, kicking them aside, now completely bare from the waist down. Cool air hit your soaked pussy and you shivered.

Toby stared at you with pure, desperate hunger. “C-can I please fuck you now?” he begged hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. “I need you so bad–”

You hummed, pretending to think about it while still holding the hatchet to his throat. “Hmm… I don’t know. I’m actually really enjoying my new friend here,” you said, glancing down at the weapon with a playful smirk.

Toby groaned deep in his chest. “Yeah? It m-makes you wet? Holding my hatchet like that?”

You bit your lip and nodded, slowly pulling the blade away from his throat. With careful movements, you turned the hatchet and brought the smooth, thick wooden handle between your thighs. The blade faced safely downward and away from both of you. You rubbed the rounded end slowly against your slick folds, letting out a soft, breathy moan as it brushed your clit.

Toby’s hand sped up on his cock as he watched, completely transfixed. His breathing was ragged, eyes dark with lust and awe.

You moaned softly as the smooth, rounded wooden handle glided against your soaked folds, rubbing shamelessly over your clit in slow, teasing circles. The contrast of the cool, hard wood against your hot, slick skin made your thighs tremble.

Toby’s breathing was ragged. He forced himself to stop stroking his cock, his hand moving instead to wrap around the handle of the hatchet right below yours. His fingers overlapped with your own, steadying it.

“Keep g-going,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Don’t stop… fuck, this is so hot.”

He looked completely hypnotized - dark eyes wide and unblinking, locked on the sight of you grinding against the handle of his weapon. His neck cracked sharply to the side, but he barely seemed to notice. “This hatchet… it k-kills people,” he whispered hoarsely, pushing the handle a little more firmly against you. “And now you’re fucking it… my good girl using my muh-murder weapon like a toy…”

The filthy words hit you hard. Shame and raw arousal flooded through you in equal measure, making your face burn bright red. A fresh gush of wetness coated the handle as you rocked your hips harder against it.

Toby groaned at the sight. He carefully pushed the rounded end upward until it nudged right against your entrance. You gasped sharply, spreading your legs further apart on instinct, bracing your hands on the fallen tree for balance.

“It feels so good,” you whimpered, voice breathy. “Toby–”

The thick, rounded wood stretched you just enough to make your eyes flutter. It wasn’t as big as his cock, but the danger of it -the sheer wrongness - made everything feel more intense. Toby watched with dark fascination as the handle grew slick and shiny with your arousal.

He let you ride it for a few more moments, gently guiding the angle, before he slowly pulled it away. You whined at the loss, but the sound died in your throat when he brought the soaked handle to his mouth and licked it clean with long, obscene strokes of his tongue - tasting every drop of you while staring straight into your eyes.

The sight was so filthy it nearly made you cum on the spot. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

Still holding the hatchet in one hand, Toby guided you with the other, gripping your hip and turning you around. He pressed you forward until your hips rested against the rough bark of the fallen pine tree, your upper body leaning over it.

“Lean f-forward for me,” he murmured, voice thick with need.

You obeyed, arching your back and spreading your legs wider. The position left you completely exposed to him - ass up, back arched, pussy dripping and ready. Toby groaned at the view, his free hand squeezing your hip hard enough to bruise.

He lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust.

“F-fuuuck–” he moaned as your tight, wet heat swallowed every thick inch of his cock. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming. He bottomed out with a sharp snap of his hips, his pelvis flush against your ass.

Then he started fucking you.

The pace was deep and relentless from the start. Toby gripped your hip with one hand while the other still held the hatchet - the flat of the blade resting against the curve of your lower back, a constant cold reminder of exactly who he was. Every powerful thrust rocked you forward against the tree, your tits pressing into the rough bark through your thin tank top.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed through the quiet clearing. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, hitting deep with every stroke. He was fucking you like he’d been starving for it, hard and desperate.

“God, you’re so t-tight,” he panted, voice breaking with every thrust. His hips snapped forward harder, the angle letting him drive even deeper. “Missed this pussy so ffff-fucking much– been thinking about it every night–”

Your moans grew louder, shameless. Every brutal thrust pushed a broken sound out of you. The hatchet stayed pressed against your back, the danger only heightening everything. Toby’s tics made his rhythm stutter and jerk at random - one particularly hard crack of his neck made him slam into you even deeper, ripping a cry from your throat.

He leaned over you, chest against your back, messy hair brushing your shoulder as he fucked you harder. The hand holding the hatchet slid around to rest the flat of the blade against your throat, just holding it there as a dark, thrilling reminder while he railed you from behind.

“You feel that?” he growled against your ear, voice rough and stammering as he fucked you harder. “My h-hatchet on your throat while I’m buried in your pussy… so fucking easy for me to kill you right now. One little slip and–fuck–you’d be b-bleeding out while I finish inside you.”

The dark, possessive words sent a violent shiver through you, your walls clenching hard around his cock. Toby groaned at the feeling, hips snapping faster, the danger making everything more intense. The angle was devastating - every thrust dragged perfectly against that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

Your nails scratched down his forearm, a desperate attempt to remind him who had been in charge just minutes ago. You wanted to say something sharp and dominant, to mock him for how quickly he’d flipped the script.

But the cold, heavy press of the hatchet blade against your throat made the words die in your mouth.

Toby was everywhere - his chest plastered to your back, hips slamming against your ass with every brutal thrust, one strong hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, and that damn hatchet resting right against the vulnerable skin of your throat. The danger of it, the raw reminder of exactly who he was and what those blades had done, only made you want him more.

He was showing you who was really in control.

And fuck… it made you even wetter.

Toby chuckled darkly against the side of your neck, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you as another sharp tic jerked his head.

“You can b-borrow my hatchet to play with,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear, voice thick with lust. “But I decide how this g-goes.”

His hips snapped forward particularly hard on the last word, driving his thick cock so deep you saw stars. You moaned brokenly, your attempt at teasing completely shattered. Your pussy clenched hard around him, dripping down your thighs.

Toby groaned at the feeling. Without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching. The sudden loss made you whine - but then his fingers found your clit, rubbing fast and firm, while the hatchet stayed pressed to your throat.

“C’mon,” he growled. “Let it out.”

Your whole body seized as you gushed around nothing, clear fluid spraying down your trembling thighs and soaking his shoes and the forest floor beneath you. The release was messy and intense, leaving you shaking and gasping against the rough bark of the fallen tree.

Toby didn’t give you time to recover.

He shoved his cock back inside you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, soaking heat. The new wetness made the slide even filthier. He started fucking you even harder - deep, punishing strokes that rocked your entire body forward against the tree with every snap of his hips.

The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin filled the clearing again, louder now that you were drenched. His cock dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you on every thrust, the angle devastating.

“Am I f-fucking you good?” he panted against your neck, voice wrecked and desperate even as he dominated you. “Am I being a g-good boy for you?”

“Yes– yes, fuck– such a good boy,” you moaned loudly, the words tumbling out between broken gasps. “Baby– Toby– you’re fucking me so good, don’t stop–”

Toby groaned deep in his chest, the praise hitting him hard. His rhythm grew faster, more erratic, hips slamming into your ass with wet, filthy sounds. The hatchet pressed harder against your throat, enough for you to feel the sharp edge and the steady thrum of your own pulse against the steel. His other hand gripped your hip in a bruising hold, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you as he railed you from behind.

You were getting close, fast. The combination of his thick cock stretching you open, the dangerous press of the hatchet, and the raw possessiveness in every thrust pushed you right to the edge.

Toby could feel it. He fucked you harder, grinding deep on every stroke, the hatchet steady against your throat.

“Yeah,” he growled, voice hoarse. “Cum for me– cum on my d-dick–”

The pressure, the danger, the overwhelming pleasure - it all crashed over you at once.

You came hard with a loud, broken cry, your pussy clamping down around his cock, gushing around him as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your body. Your legs shook violently, thighs slick and trembling as you rode it out, moaning his name over and over.

He kept fucking you through it. His hips snapped forward in short, desperate thrusts, chasing his own release while you trembled and moaned beneath him. The hatchet stayed pressed firmly against your throat, the cold steel a constant, thrilling reminder as he used you.

“F-fuuuck– you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned brokenly against your neck, voice wrecked with pleasure. His hips stuttered hard, tics making his rhythm jerk unpredictably as he drove himself as deep as he could go.

With a loud, shattered moan that cracked into a whimper, Toby finally came.

He buried himself to the hilt, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside you as his whole body shuddered violently. In the throes of it, his grip on the hatchet tightened involuntarily. The sharp edge bit into the soft skin of your throat - just a shallow nick, enough to sting and draw a thin line of blood.

He didn’t even seem to notice in the moment, too lost in the pulsing heat of your pussy and the overwhelming pleasure. He stayed buried deep, hips giving lazy final thrusts as he emptied himself completely, scarred face buried in your neck. Only then did his grip finally loosen. The hatchet slipped from his fingers and dropped heavily onto the forest floor with a dull thunk.

You were both panting, bodies slick with sweat despite the afternoon breeze. You ran a shaky hand through your messy hair, trying to catch your breath as you slowly straightened up. Turning around, you leaned back against the fallen pine tree for support, legs still trembling as you watched him.

Toby looked beautifully ruined.

His cheeks were flushed under the scars, messy brown hair sticking to his forehead, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. He gave you that sheepish crooked grin as he started pulling his clothes back on. But when you bent down to grab your discarded panties, tilting your head slightly, his eyes caught on your throat.

His entire body went rigid.

“Shit–wait,” he breathed, stepping closer. His fingers gently tilted your chin up, dark eyes widening in horror at the thin cut and the tiny trickle of blood. “Oh fuck… I did that? I–I didn’t mean to, I swear–fuck, I’m so sorry–”

He looked genuinely worried, neck cracking sharply as another tic hit him. He cupped your face, leaning in to press soft, frantic kisses along the shallow cut, tasting the faint copper on his lips.

“I’m s-so fucking sorry, baby–I got too into it, I didn’t realize–shit, does it hurt? I c-could’ve really hurt you, I–”

You caught his face in your hands, pulling him into a slow, reassuring kiss before he could spiral further. When you pulled back you were smiling, a little breathless, cheeks warm.

“Toby… it’s fine,” you murmured, voice soft and surprisingly fond. “It’s just a tiny cut. Honestly?” You bit your lip, a shy, heated little flush creeping up your neck. “It was kind of hot.”

He stared at you for a second, eyes wide, before letting out a shaky, relieved laugh and pressing another gentle kiss right over the mark.

“You’re insane,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. The guilt was still there, thick in his voice, but he was relaxing under your touch, shoulders slowly dropping. “Fucking insane… and I l-love that about you.”

You laughed at his sincerity and gave him one last kiss before bending down and picking up your discarded panties, using the soft fabric to carefully wipe between your legs. Toby’s cum was already starting to leak down your thighs, and you cleaned up as best you could before tossing the ruined panties aside. You went commando, shimmying back into your denim shorts and buttoning them with slightly shaky fingers. The fabric felt strange against your bare, sensitive pussy, still slick and full of him.

Toby watched the entire process with dark, hungry eyes, like he was memorizing every second of it. Only when you were done did he finally pull his boxers and jeans back up, tucking himself away and fastening them. He shrugged his hoodie back on more slowly.

For a moment the two of you just stood there in the quiet clearing, breathing each other in, the hatchets lying forgotten on the ground beside you.

You leaned back against the fallen pine tree, sitting on the thick trunk with your legs dangling slightly. A soft, satisfied smile played on your lips as you looked at Toby. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves above, catching on his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat still on his skin. For a moment everything felt warm and perfect.

Toby pulled his hoodie the rest of the way on and stepped closer, standing between your knees. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently on your cheek.

“You w-working tonight?” he asked quietly, voice still a little rough from earlier.

You shook your head, grinning. “Nope. It’s my day off, finally. No gas station hell for once.”

His crooked smile started to return, but you clapped your hands together excitedly before he could say anything else.

“Actually… I’ve been invited to a party tonight,” you said brightly. “Well, more like a club gig. You know my coworker Andy? He’s DJing tonight and he’s been hyping it up for days. I told him I’d come support him. It should be fun, you should come with me!”

The change in Toby’s expression was instant.

His face fell. The happy, post-sex glow vanished like someone had flipped a switch. His dark eyes dulled, shoulders hitching sharply as a violent tic jerked his neck to the side with a loud crack. The crooked grin disappeared completely, replaced by a look of pure disappointment.

“…A party?” he asked slowly, voice flat.

You nodded, still smiling, though it was starting to feel a little strained. “Yeah, like… a club with music and stuff. Nothing crazy. It’ll be fun.”

Toby stared at you like you’d suggested something completely insane. His jaw tightened, another tic rolling through his shoulders.

“You… you s-see what I look like, rrrr-right?” he muttered, motioning to his face with one hand - specifically tracing the thick, jagged scar that ran across his cheek and mouth. “I can’t go to parties. I look like a fucking freak.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You’d never heard him talk about himself that way - at least not so bitterly. He looked genuinely upset, eyes dark and restless, neck twitching again as he glanced away.

“Toby…” you said softly, brows furrowing. You reached out and gently touched his arm. “You shouldn’t use that word. You’re not a freak.”

He stayed quiet, jaw clenched. You tried to keep your voice positive, hopeful, desperate to ease the sudden tension thickening the air between you.

“But if you feel more comfortable, you could always wear your bandana,” you suggested with a small smile. “It looks good on you.”

Toby scoffed. The sound was sharp and bitter. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head as another harsh tic jerked his neck to the left.

“It d-doesn’t work like t-that,” he muttered, voice low and edged with frustration. “I just… I don’t do s-stuff like that. Parties. Clubs. Normal s-shit with normal puh-people. That’s not me.”

The disappointment in his voice was heavy. He looked smaller somehow, shoulders hunched, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides. The easy, affectionate mood from just minutes ago had evaporated completely, replaced by something raw and insecure that made your chest ache.

You sat there on the log, suddenly a little nervous. You’d never seen him shut down this quickly. The shift was jarring - from the intense, dominant way he’d just fucked you with a hatchet to his throat, to this vulnerable, almost wounded version of him pulling away at the mere mention of going out together.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady and gentle even as the mood between you had soured so quickly.

“It would really mean a lot to me if you came,” you said softly, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I want you there with me. It’ll be fun.”

Toby took a sharp step back, his shoulders hitching violently. A bitter scoff escaped him, his scarred face twisting with clear hurt and frustration.

“Why the ffff-fuck does it even muh-matter?” he muttered, voice low and edged with something ugly. “You already have Andy.”

He practically spat the name, like it tasted rotten in his mouth. His neck cracked hard to the side and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tics coming faster now.

You blinked, raising your hands in disbelief. “What the hell, Toby? Are you… jealous?”

He stared at you for a long second, dark eyes burning with insecurity and resentment. Another violent tic jerked his shoulder upward.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he shot back, voice cracking. “You’re with him a-all the fucking time. Laughing with him, working l-late shifts a-alone together… and now you’re gonna go puh-party with him? Probably get d-drunk and cheat or s-some shit. I know how g-girls work.”

The accusation came out of nowhere. You sat there on the fallen log, staring at him in stunned silence for a moment. After everything you’d just done - the raw, intense sex, the way you’d praised him, kissed his bandages, told him how much you missed him - he was still spiraling like this? The insecurity felt so sudden and deep it left you reeling.

You couldn’t believe it.

“Toby…” you started, voice tight with frustration and hurt. “You’re being ridiculous. Andy is just a coworker. A friend. That’s it. We were literally just fucking each other ten minutes ago. I invited you to come with me tonight because you’re the one I want to hang out with. I showed up here for you. I’ve been texting you nonstop, worrying about you, letting you… do all of that with the hatchet. And you think I’m just gonna cheat on you at some club gig?”

The warm, affectionate glow from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by this heavy, uncomfortable tension hanging between you in the quiet clearing.

Toby shook his head, eyes darting away from yours as he stared off into the trees. His shoulders hitched violently, neck cracking sharply to the side with a loud crack. The silence stretched for a painful beat before he finally spoke, voice low and bitter.

“I’m not going,” he muttered. “And I d-don’t want you going either.”

You stood up from the fallen log, heart pounding with a mix of frustration and disbelief. You stepped right into his space, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, Toby,” you said firmly, voice rising. “But you don’t get to control me like that. You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go.”

He finally met your gaze. Another harsh tic jerked his head to the left.

“I didn’t t-think you’d be like t-this,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I thought you were… different.”

The words stung. You felt your chest tighten.

“It’s just a party, Toby! Please come with me. I want you there. I want to dance with you, have fun with you–”

“No.”

The refusal was flat. Final.

You threw your hands up. “Well then I’m going by myself. You’re not gonna decide where I go or who I hang out with.”

Toby’s expression darkened. He stared at you in a way that actually scared you for a second. His shoulders twitched hard, fingers flexing at his sides.

“You’re not going to that party,” he said, voice dangerously low.

Your stomach twisted. You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground.

“If you w-want to prove you’re actually l-loyal to me,” he continued, stepping closer, “then you’re not going either.”

That was it. You’d had enough.

You let out a bitter, incredulous laugh. “You’re being such an insecure idiot right now.”

You turned on your heel, ready to storm off, but Toby’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm, yanking you back toward him with surprising strength.

“And you’re being a ffff-fucking bitch,” he snapped, the words flying out before he could stop them. His grip tightened. “I know I’m not e-enough for you. You’re just like a-all the o-other girls–”

The slap landed hard across his scarred cheek before you even realized you’d done it. The sound cracked through the clearing like a whip. Toby’s head snapped to the side from the force, but he barely flinched. No pain. Still, the intention hit him.

You stared him down, breathing hard, your palm stinging.

For a split second, regret flashed across his face. His dark eyes widened, the anger draining away almost instantly as he realized what he’d said. His grip on your arm loosened immediately.

“Shit– I didn’t mean that,” he stammered, voice cracking. “I didn’t muh-mean to call you a b-bitch, I swear– it just s-slipped out, I’m sorry–”

You ripped your arm free, glaring at him with tears of frustration burning in your eyes. Without another word, you turned and started walking away, back toward the path along the treeline.

“You can come find me when you’re done acting like a fucking immature child!” you yelled over your shoulder, voice shaking with anger.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stormed off, the warm afterglow of your earlier intimacy completely shattered. Behind you, Toby stood frozen by the fallen tree, watching you leave.

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening at home, sulking.

The house felt too quiet. You paced around your bedroom, flopped dramatically onto your bed, then got up again to stare out the window toward the woods. Every few minutes you’d replay the fight in your head, the warmth from the clearing long gone, replaced by a heavy knot in your stomach.

The sex had been amazing. For a while everything had felt perfect. Toby had been needy and dominant and sweet all at once, and you’d felt so close to him. Then, the second you mentioned the party, it was like a switch flipped. He’d shown you a whole different side of himself: insecure, possessive, almost cruel in the way he lashed out.

It scared you a little.

No one was perfect, obviously. Everyone had baggage and insecurities. But this felt so sudden and extreme. One minute he was moaning your name with a hatchet to your throat, the next he was accusing you of planning to cheat like it was inevitable. You weren’t some naive girl - you knew dating someone like Toby came with complications - but this level of jealousy after such a short time? It left a sour taste in your mouth.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You already knew who it was before you looked.

Andy:

yo here’s the addy 📍 club’s called The Pit starts around 11 but i go on at 11:30 u better show up i got u on the list

You sighed heavily, staring at the messages. The club was in the next town over - about a 1.5-hour walk, so you’d have to take the bus. You thought about canceling. Staying home. Not upsetting Toby. It probably wouldn’t even be that fun without him anyway.

But the longer you sat there stewing, the more something inside you snapped.

He hadn’t even texted you. Not a single apology. Not a “you okay?” or “I’m sorry.” Nothing. He’d accused you of being a cheater, called you a bitch, and then just… let you walk away.

You weren’t going to let anyone control you like that. Not even him.

“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath.

You stood up, determination settling over you like armor. Andy had been hyping this gig for days. He was your friend, and he was counting on you to show up. You weren’t going to ditch him just because Toby threw a jealous tantrum.

You were going.

You marched over to your closet and started pulling out outfit options, jaw set. The sulking was over. Tonight you were going to get dressed up, go to The Pit, support your friend, and have a good time - whether Toby liked it or not.

Toby stormed back through the treeline, hatchets clipped back to his belt and banging against his thighs with every angry step. The giddy high from fucking you over that fallen pine tree had already curdled into something ugly and bitter in his chest. He slammed the front door behind him so hard the whole frame rattled, the sound echoing through the old house like a gunshot.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. He’d been so stupidly excited to see you - counting down the minutes, sneaking out like an idiot, imagining you’d be happy just being with him in the woods. And then you hit him with a party. A club. With Andy. Like it was nothing.

His neck cracked sharply to the side as he stalked down the hallway, shoulders hitching hard. Parties weren’t for him. He knew what he looked like. What he was. And now you wanted to go prance around in some loud, crowded shithole with that smug gas station asshole who probably flirted with you every shift. The thought made his blood boil.

He entered the living room. Tim was still sprawled exactly where Toby had left him - leg propped up on pillows, surrounded by a growing graveyard of empty beer cans. Only now Jack was there too, perched on a rickety chair he’d dragged over, black voids focused on the nasty wound on Tim’s thigh. His medical kit sat open on the coffee table, gauze and antiseptic scattered around. They did this every day now. That’s how bad Toby had fucked Tim’s leg up.

The wound looked grotesque - red, swollen, still seeping in places despite Jack’s careful bandaging. Toby stared anyway. A sick little flicker of guilt twisted in his chest before he shoved it down.

Jack didn’t even glance up as Toby entered, his face impassive, hands steady as he worked. Tim, on the other hand, was clearly wasted. His head lolled slightly as he squinted at Toby, words slurring together.

“Well shit… look who’s back already. Couldn’t even stay out longer than an hour, huh, Tobes?”

Toby muttered something incoherent under his breath - half curse, half tic - and kicked one of the empty beer cans hard. It clattered across the floor and bounced off the wall with a metallic clang.

Tim’s face twisted in annoyance. “Hey, the fuck is wrong with you, little shit? You got a problem?”

Jack finally looked up then, black sockets tilting in Toby’s direction. His voice was calm, almost clinical, hands still carefully wrapping fresh gauze around Tim’s thigh. “Do you want me to check your shoulder and ribs? Wounds need monitoring.”

Toby’s shoulders hitched hard. “N-no,” he snapped, already turning toward the stairs. “I’m f-fine.”

He was halfway to the staircase when Tim let out a sharp whistle, the sound cutting through the room like a whip.

“Not so fast, Toby.”

Toby stopped, neck cracking violently to the left. He didn’t turn around right away, fingers flexing at his sides.

Tim shifted on the couch with a pained grunt, beer sloshing in the can he still held. “What the hell crawled up your ass? You were practically skipping out of here earlier like a lovesick puppy. Now you’re slamming doors and kicking shit like someone pissed in your cereal. Spill it.”

The silence stretched. Toby’s jaw worked, teeth grinding. The spiral in his head kept feeding him images - your angry face, you slapping him, you storming away. His chest felt tight, hot anger mixing with that ugly, gnawing insecurity he hated more than anything.

He considered just bolting upstairs and slamming his door, burying the whole mess. But he could feel their eyes on him - Tim’s drunk, expectant stare and Jack’s empty black voids. The silence pressed in like a weight.

With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he turned around.

“Fine. I had a f-fucking argument with my girl, okay?” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “It’s stupid. She wants to go to some p-p-party tonight.”

Tim let out a low, drunken chuckle, head lolling back against the couch. “Told ya,” he slurred, smirking. “Warned you about that one, Tobes. Girls like her don’t stick around in our kind of life. They get bored. Start looking for fun elsewhere–”

“Sit still,” Jack interrupted politely, voice calm and even. His gloved fingers pressed a little too firmly into the edge of the wound as he adjusted the gauze. Tim winced sharply, hissing through his teeth.

“Fuck–easy, asshole!”

Toby looked annoyed but said nothing. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed tight over his chest, watching Jack’s steady hands work.

Then, unexpectedly, Jack spoke again, his tone formal and detached like he was stating a simple medical fact.

“Normal people engage in normal social activities. Parties, clubs, gatherings with peers–these are common behaviors for civilians. When you choose to pursue a relationship with one, you should anticipate such friction. It is a predictable outcome.”

The words landed like a quiet slap. Toby’s shoulders hitched violently, another sharp crack echoing from his neck. He stared at the floor, jaw tight.

“Well, I–I’m against it,” he muttered, almost pathetically. “She’s p-probably gonna cheat anyway. Why e-else would she go a-a-after I told her not to?”

Jack paused for a fraction of a second, his face tilting slightly. The black voids stared blankly, as close to confused as Jack ever got.

“Cheating is defined as the violation of an agreed-upon romantic or sexual exclusivity within a relationship,” he said formally, almost clinically. “I fail to see the direct causal connection between attending a social event and infidelity. Correlation does not imply causation.”

Tim barked out a rough laugh, nearly spilling his beer. “Nah, I’m with Toby on this one. Fuck that. I’d never let my girl go to some sleazy club full of drunk assholes grinding on each other. No way.”

Jack didn’t even look up from his work. “You do not have a girl,” he pointed out politely, voice still perfectly neutral as he continued wrapping the fresh bandage.

Tim shut up instantly, glaring daggers at the side of Jack’s masked head. “Fuck you, man.”

Toby just sighed, long and tired, rubbing the back of his neck as another tic jerked his shoulder. Jack’s detached logic made a frustrating kind of sense - normal people did normal shit, and you were normal. But it didn’t kill the bitter, ugly knot twisting in his chest.

He was still pissed. Still hurt. And the longer he stood there, the more that anger festered.

Toby opened his mouth, neck cracking sharply as he scrambled for something to say - anything to push back against Jack’s detached logic without sounding as pathetic as he already felt. “Yeah, well, it’s not that s-simple, she–”

Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs, cutting him off. Jeff appeared a second later, long black hair messy and half-tied back, his face wearing that familiar lazy smirk. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed up to show old scars and veins along his forearms. He paused at the edge of the living room, one hand resting on the handrail as he took in the scene: Tim sprawled on the couch, Jack bent over the wound, Toby leaning against the back of it like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Well, well,” Jeff drawled, voice low and mocking in that raspy way of his. “Look at the lovebirds. You two finally kiss and make up?”

“Fuck no,” Tim and Toby said at the exact same time.

They glanced sideways at each other, both wearing matching expressions of irritation. Tim’s was drunk and surly; Toby’s was twitchy and defensive. Jeff barked out a short, raspy laugh, clearly entertained by the synchronicity.

“Damn, that was kinda cute.” He shoved off the handrail and wandered further into the room, boots scuffing against the worn floorboards. “Where the fuck is Brian? I need the truck tonight.”

Tim took a slow sip from his beer, wincing as Jack adjusted something on his thigh. “Too late. He left a couple hours ago for a job. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, dragging the word out. He circled lazily around the couch, hands in his pockets, peering down at Tim’s leg with mild interest. Jeff watched Jack work for a beat, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife with a casual flick. The blade glinted as he leaned over and sliced cleanly through the excess bandage material Jack was holding.

“At your service, doc,” Jeff said with a mocking little half-bow.

Jack hummed quietly in acknowledgment, not even glancing up as he secured the fresh wrap. “Helpful.”

Toby huffed under his breath, arms still crossed tight. His mind kept drifting back to you, he barely registered the rest of the room.

Jack finished smoothing the bandage down, then reached into his kit and shook out a couple of pain pills into his gloved palm. He held them out to Tim. “Here you go. Wait until the alcohol has mostly worn off. I’ve told you this before–mixing them is not advisable.”

Tim waved a dismissive hand, nearly knocking the pills out of Jack’s grip. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll be fine.”

Jeff perked up at the sight of the pills, leaning in with a crooked grin. “Hey, hook me up too while you’re at it. My head’s been killing me.”

Jack’s face tilted slightly in Jeff’s direction. “No.”

Jeff groaned theatrically, slumping back against the wall. “Boooooring. You’re no fun, Jack.”

Jack began packing up his supplies with methodical precision - gauze, antiseptic, scissors all disappearing neatly into the kit. Tim shifted on the couch, testing the new wrap with a grunt. Jeff straightened up, stretching his arms overhead until his back popped.

“Guess we’re walking then,” Jeff said. “I’m dragging Ben out tonight. Dude needs to leave the house before he fuses with his computer chair.”

Tim snorted. “Brian wouldn’t have let you borrow the truck anyway.”

Jeff rolled his eyes hard. “Yeah, sure, cripple. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He pushed off the wall and headed back toward the stairs, calling up loudly as he climbed. “Ben! Change of plans–we’re walking tonight, you lazy fuck!”

A loud, miserable groan echoed down from upstairs. “Are you serious?!”

Jeff’s laughter faded as he disappeared up the steps.

Jack clicked his kit shut and stood, smoothing his jacket. He gave the room a quick, polite once-over before heading toward the basement door that led to the infirmary.

Toby muttered under his breath, “I just wanna be left alone,” and shoved off the couch. His shoulders hitched with another violent tic as he turned and trudged upstairs, boots heavy on the old wood. The conversation, the noise, the unwanted advice - it all pressed in too much. He needed the quiet of his room, even if his head wouldn’t stop spinning with thoughts of you, that stupid party, and the sick feeling that maybe Jack was right… but it still fucking hurt.

Toby shoved his bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind him with enough force to make the old frame rattle and a few dust particles drift down from the ceiling. The sound cut through the quiet upstairs hallway like a final fuck-you to the rest of the house. He leaned back against the wood for a second, breathing hard, shoulders hitching violently as a string of tics rolled through him - neck cracking sharply to the left, then again.

“F-fuck…” he muttered under his breath.

The room was a mess, same as always: clothes piled on the floor, his cracked phone still glowing faintly on the unmade bed from earlier. He dropped onto the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, and dragged his hands through his messy brown hair.

At first, all he could think about was the clearing. The way you’d looked on your knees, then standing there holding his hatchet like it was nothing. Something had snapped in him the second he saw you gripping that blade - his blade, the one still stained with old blood no matter how many times he cleaned it. The raw, dangerous thrill of pressing it to your throat while he was buried deep inside you… the way your pussy had clenched around him when he growled those dark words about how easy it would be to kill you right there.

His cock twitched at the memory, even through the anger still simmering in his chest. You’d been so fucking hot - glossy lips, flushed cheeks, that little cut on your throat afterward that you’d actually called hot. He pulled his phone out and opened your chat, scrolling straight to the photo you’d sent him last night. Tits out, panties pulled down just enough, that teasing smirk on your lips.

He stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen. Pathetically, almost without thinking, he brought the phone closer and pressed his lips to the image of your chest. The glass was cold against his mouth. He held it there for a second, eyes squeezed shut, before pulling back with a shaky breath.

“Miss you already…” he whispered, voice rough.

But the warm memory soured fast. He thought about going to the party. Showing up for you. Making you happy like you’d asked, dancing with you or whatever normal shit people did. For a moment it almost sounded doable - just wear the bandana, stay in the corner, keep his head down. You’d smile at him. Maybe drag him onto the floor and grind on him like you had in the woods.

He opened the camera app and flipped it to selfie mode.

The sight hit him like a truck. Messy brown hair sticking up everywhere, the thick jagged scar cutting across his cheek and mouth, the faded bruises from the fight with Tim still visible. His neck twitched hard again, making the image blur for a second. He looked like a fucking freak. Crowds would stare. People would whisper. The noise, the lights, the bodies pressing in - he’d hate every second of it. He’d ruin your night just by being there.

The idea died instantly.

“Stupid,” he muttered, locking the phone and tossing it onto the bed. “F-fucking stupid.”

The anger shifted. It wasn’t really your fault, was it? You were just… normal. You worked at a gas station, had friends, wanted to go out and have fun sometimes. But Andy - that smug, tattooed asshole who was always around you, always texting you, always inviting you to shit. If he hadn’t pushed the party, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have gone against what Toby wanted. You wouldn’t have walked away from him looking so pissed.

Toby sat there for a long time, staring at the floor while tics jerked through his body. The spiral kept feeding him worse and worse thoughts: you laughing with Andy under club lights, Andy’s arm around your shoulders, Andy taking you home later. His hands clenched into fists until his knuckles cracked.

He needed to know more about that fucker.

With a heavy sigh, Toby reached under his bed and dragged out his old, beat-up laptop. The thing was ancient - Ben had mocked it endlessly - but it still worked for basic shit. He wasn’t about to crawl to Ben for help. This was his business. His girl. His problem.

The screen flickered to life with a low hum. Toby cracked his neck again and started typing Andy’s name into a search bar, along with the gas station town and anything else he could remember from your stories. His eyes narrowed at the screen as results slowly loaded.

He had an idea forming already. Nothing solid yet. But he’d figure it out. One way or another.

You spent hours getting ready, channeling all your frustration into making yourself look good.

You picked out a cute black skirt that hugged your hips and flared out just enough to swish when you moved, pairing it with a glittery silver top that caught the light beautifully. You did your makeup more dramatically than usual - sharp winged eyeliner, smoky eyes, and a bold glossy lip. You teased your hair until it fell in big, bouncy waves around your shoulders, adding just a touch of shimmer to your collarbones and cleavage for extra effect.

You traced the thin cut on your throat with a fingertip, the shallow nick still faintly stinging. It was bigger than you’d thought when Toby kissed it in the clearing - longer, a little more noticeable now that the adrenaline and post-sex haze had faded. The memory of how it happened flashed through your mind: the cold blade pressed against your skin while he fucked you deep and desperate, the way his grip had tightened right as he came. You shivered, a confusing mix of heat and lingering worry curling in your stomach.

You thought about covering it with makeup. A little concealer, maybe. But something stopped you. You left it bare, visible under the light. A small, private reminder of Toby - of how intense and dangerous and him the whole thing had been.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good. Hot, even. Like you were stepping out as your own main character tonight.

Still, the knot in your stomach hadn’t fully disappeared. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a quick shot of vodka, downing it in one smooth motion. The burn helped settle your nerves a little. Just enough liquid courage to push through the lingering anger and doubt about Toby.

By the time the clock hit 11:00 PM, you were out the door.

You made sure to lock up carefully, double-checking the deadbolt before slipping your keys into your small bag. The night air was cooler than the afternoon had been, wrapping around your bare legs as you started walking toward the bus station. Your heels clicked loudly against the pavement with every step - a sharp, confident rhythm in the quiet night. The sound echoed slightly off the surrounding houses and trees, making the walk feel longer than it was.

You reached the bus stop and leaned against the shelter, pulling a cigarette from your bag. You lit it with a soft flick of your lighter, inhaling deeply as the smoke curled up into the dark sky.

Your mind immediately drifted back to Toby.

The memory of his face twisting with jealousy and insecurity replayed on loop. The way he’d grabbed your arm. The ugly words he’d thrown at you. The fear and anger that had flashed in his eyes when you said you were going anyway. Part of you still felt guilty - you knew he was damaged, knew he had serious issues - but another, louder part of you was pissed. He had no right to speak to you like that. No right to try and control you after everything you’d already accepted about him.

You took another long drag from the cigarette, staring out at the empty road as you waited for the bus. The glitter on your top sparkled faintly under the streetlight every time you moved. You looked hot. You felt hot. And you refused to let Toby’s bullshit ruin your night.

Still… you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d texted you yet. If he was sitting somewhere regretting what he’d said. Or if he was still spiraling, convinced you were going to cheat on him the second you walked into that club.

The distant rumble of the approaching bus pulled you out of your thoughts. You dropped the cigarette, crushing it under your heel as the bright lights cut through the darkness.

You were going to The Pit.

And you were going to have a good fucking time.

You stepped onto the nearly empty bus, the doors hissing shut behind you. There were only a couple of other passengers -a tired-looking older woman and a guy with headphones who didn’t even glance up. You picked a seat near the middle and settled in, the engine rumbling beneath you as the bus pulled away from the stop and headed out of town.

The ride was quiet. Streetlights blurred past the window as you left the familiar edges of your neighborhood and crossed into the next town over. You pulled out your phone and opened the location Andy had sent you earlier - “The Pit”- staring at the little red pin on the map. It looked unassuming from the satellite view. Nothing special.

Your thumb hovered over your chat with Toby.

The conversation was still open from earlier, the flirty messages from last night feeling like they belonged to a completely different day. You started typing something - “I’m heading to the club if you change your mind…” - then deleted it. Typed it again. Deleted it again.

You sighed heavily and locked the phone, shoving it deep into your bag. Fuck him. He didn’t get to ruin this too.

The bus finally pulled up to your stop. You thanked the driver quietly and stepped off into the cooler night air. The walk to the club was only about ten minutes, but your heels made it feel longer. The streets here were busier than yours - groups of people laughing, cars passing, the distant thump of bass already hinting at where you were headed.

The entrance to The Pit was surprisingly understated. Just a plain, unmarked black door squeezed between a closed laundromat and a shuttered pawn shop. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d walk right past it.

You took a deep breath, adjusted your glittery top, and pulled the door open.

A wall of heat and sound slammed into you immediately.

The air inside was thick and warm, heavy with the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and spilled alcohol. Unsteady wooden stairs led downward, painted a deep, bloody red that matched the walls. The music was loud - the bass so powerful you felt it vibrating in your chest even from the top of the stairs. Red lights pulsed and flickered below, painting everything in shifting shades of crimson and shadow.

You hesitated for just a second at the top, heart beating fast. Then you squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and started walking down the stairs.

Each step made your black skirt swish around your thighs. The glitter on your top caught the red lights, sparkling with every movement. The deeper you went, the louder the music became - heavy electronic beats mixed with rap and bass drops that made the railing tremble under your hand.

When you reached the bottom, the club opened up in front of you: a crowded, hazy space bathed entirely in red. Bodies moved on the dance floor, lights flashed, and somewhere toward the back you could see the DJ booth lit up with glowing equipment.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking it all in, a strange mix of nerves and defiant excitement swirling in your chest.

You started pushing your way through the dense crowd, squeezing between sweaty bodies that pulsed and swayed with the heavy bass. The air was thick and humid - a potent mix of spilled booze, cheap mixed perfumes, cigarette smoke, and pure human sweat. It clung to your skin as you moved, the red lights flashing across faces and glittery outfits all around you.

Your eyes lifted toward the elevated DJ booth at the far side of the club. There he was - Andy in his full element.

He looked completely in his zone: buzzcut freshly faded, tattoos snaking down his arms and across his chest, visible under a simple black tee that clung to him from the heat. Headphones clamped over one ear, he was swaying to the rhythm, one hand on the mixer, the other adjusting knobs with practiced ease. The bass dropped perfectly as he transitioned into a new track, and the crowd roared in approval. You couldn’t help but smile. Looking at him up there, confident and commanding the room, you never would’ve guessed he was the same lazy, conspiracy-ranting gas station coworker you joked with every shift.

He was actually really good.

You weaved through the crowd toward the stairs leading up to the booth, heels carefully navigating the sticky floor. When you got close enough, you waved your arms frantically and yelled his name over the music.

“Andy!”

He finally spotted you, his lazy grin spreading wide across his face. He motioned for you to come up, and the tall, bored-looking guy guarding the booth stairs gave you a quick once-over before stepping aside.

You climbed the short set of stairs and walked straight into Andy’s open arm. He pulled you into a quick side hug, careful not to lose his rhythm on the equipment, his body warm and slightly damp from the heat of the booth.

“You came!” he shouted over the music, clearly happy to see you. “This place is fucking insane tonight!”

You laughed, hugging him back tightly for a second. “This party is crazy! There are so many people!”

He nodded, already switching up the next song with smooth precision, fingers flying over the decks. The bass shifted seamlessly into something even dirtier, and the crowd went wild again.

“You look great,” he said, glancing over at you with an appreciative smirk. “For real. That top is doing numbers.”

You smiled, doing a little playful spin for him. Then his expression turned curious.

“You here with your boyfriend?”

You gave him a look and shook your head. “Nope. I’m here alone.”

You tried to keep your voice light, but the disappointment still slipped through. Andy saw right through it anyway. He gave you a knowing nod, not pushing for details, which you appreciated.

“I’m on for another hour or so,” he told you, eyes flicking back to his equipment as he adjusted something. “Then I’ll come down and hang with you. In the meantime, go buy yourself a drink on me.”

He rooted around in his pocket for a second, then pulled out a folded twenty-dollar bill. As he handed it to you, you felt the unmistakable little baggie tucked inside - a small, friendly gift.

You grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek in a quick, friendly peck. “You’re the best, Andy. Seriously.”

He laughed and gave you a playful shove toward the stairs. “Go have fun! I’ll find you later.”

You slipped the twenty (and its bonus) into your bag and headed back down into the pulsing red crowd, the music vibrating through your entire body. The night was young, you looked good, and for the first time since the fight with Toby, you felt a spark of real excitement.

You were here to enjoy yourself.

And you damn well were going to.

You made your way through the throbbing crowd toward the bar area, the red lights pulsing across your skin with every step. The bar itself was packed, but you managed to squeeze into a small opening at the end. You flagged down the bartender - a tall guy with a nose ring and sleeves of tattoos - and ordered a strong mixed drink plus two shots of tequila.

While he poured, you chatted with him lightly, yelling over the music about how crazy the night was and how good Andy sounded. He laughed, nodding along as he slid the shots and your drink across the sticky bar top.

You handed him the twenty Andy had given you. Then you leaned against the bar, the cool wood pressing into your lower back, and threw back both shots one after another. The tequila burned pleasantly down your throat, warming your chest almost instantly.

You sipped your mixed drink slowly after that, the sweet liquor mixing with the lingering bite of the shots as you scanned the crowd. Bodies moved in waves under the flashing red lights. Couples grinding, groups laughing, people lost in the music. Your eyes kept drifting down to your phone, screen lighting up your face as you checked it again.

Still nothing from Toby.

No apology. No “where are you?” No anything.

You swallowed the sting of it and shoved your phone back into your bag. Fuck him.

Your fingers brushed against the little baggie Andy had slipped you. You pulled it out, staring at the small white pills inside. You had no idea what they were - Molly? Something else? At this point, you didn’t even care. You were here to have fun and forget the ugly fight in the woods.

You quickly popped one into your mouth and chased it with a long sip of your drink, the pill sliding down easily.

The decision came fast after that.

The music was too good to just stand around sulking. You finished most of your drink, set the glass on the bar, and slipped into the crowd.

It didn’t take long to find a group of girls who were clearly already very drunk and having the time of their lives. They were laughing loudly, dancing in a loose circle near the center of the floor. One of them - a tall girl with bright pink hair - spotted you and grinned, waving you over enthusiastically.

“Come dance with us!” she shouted.

You joined them without hesitation. The energy was infectious. The five of you quickly formed a little crew, moving together to the heavy bass, hands in the air, hips swaying. It was fun and lighthearted - no pressure, just pure chaotic joy. They complimented your outfit, hyped you up when you did a little spin, and screamed along to the lyrics with you.

The alcohol was hitting harder now, spreading a warm, fuzzy glow through your body. Your head felt pleasantly light, the edges of your thoughts softening as the pill started to kick in too. Colors seemed a little brighter under the red lights. The music thrummed deeper in your chest. Your skin tingled with warmth and the press of bodies around you.

You laughed as one of the girls grabbed your hands and spun you around, your black skirt flaring out and your glittery top catching the lights like stars. The bass dropped again, and the whole dance floor roared.

You let yourself get lost in it.

The night had blurred into a hazy, pulsing rhythm.

The pill you’d taken started hitting hard and fast out of nowhere. The world tilted slightly, colors bleeding brighter, the bass sinking deeper into your bones. Everything felt electric. One moment you were holding hands with the pink-haired girl, spinning and screaming lyrics, and the next… they were gone. Swept away by the crowd or lost in your own haze - you weren’t sure.

You didn’t care.

You danced alone now, eyes half-closed, hips swaying sensually to the heavy, freaky beat. The music was filthy and catchy, the kind that made you feel sexy just existing in it. You sang along under your breath, hands sliding down your own body, glitter sparkling across your chest every time the lights flashed. Every now and then you glanced up toward the DJ booth, catching Andy’s eye. He’d shoot you a lazy grin and a nod, clearly pleased you were having fun.

The high crept up on you stronger with every passing minute - warm, fuzzy euphoria mixing with the alcohol, making your skin tingle and your thoughts melt into liquid pleasure.

That’s when you felt it.

A pair of clammy, sweaty hands grabbed your hips from behind, yanking you back hard against a solid, overheated body. The sudden grip cut through the haze like ice water. You jolted, trying to twist away, but the stranger only laughed low and sloppy in your ear, his breath hot and reeking of cheap liquor and cigarettes.

“Hey, baby,” the random guy slurred, voice thick and entitled. “You’ve been dancing like a little slut all night. Shaking that ass for everyone to see. Why don’t you stop teasing and dance with a real man, huh?”

You froze, heart slamming against your ribs. The euphoric buzz fractured instantly. You pushed at his arms, trying to pry his fingers off your hips. “Let go,” you said sharply, voice raised to cut through the music. “I’m not interested. Get off me.”

He didn’t listen. If anything, his grip tightened, hips grinding crudely against you in time with the filthy bass. One hand slid lower, boldly groping at the hem of your short black skirt, fingers brushing the back of your thigh.

“C’mon, don’t be a stuck-up bitch,” he laughed, the sound ugly and wet against your ear. “I saw you looking all lonely out here. I can make you feel real good–”

Your stomach twisted with disgust and rising panic. The high made everything feel too intense - the press of his sweaty body, the sticky heat, the way the red lights pulsed across his leering face when you glanced back. You struggled harder, elbowing backward, but the crowd was too dense and he was too drunk and insistent to care. No one around you seemed to notice. Everyone else was lost in their own worlds - drunk, high, eyes glazed, bodies moving to the rhythm. A few people glanced over but quickly looked away, too out of it to intervene.

Before you could shout again, the guy was suddenly ripped backward with brutal force.

You stumbled forward, catching yourself as the stranger’s hands were torn off you. The crowd shifted lazily around the commotion, but not many heads turned. Just another drunk idiot causing a scene in a club full of drunk idiots.

Jeff appeared like he’d materialized from the red shadows themselves.

He towered over the sleazy guy, one big hand fisted tight in the man’s collar, yanking him close. Jeff’s long, messy black hair cascaded past his shoulders, strands sticking to his face from the heat. He wore a tight black tee that clung to his lean, toned torso, old scars visible along his veiny forearms. His thin, self-inflicted smile scars stretched as that lazy, predatory smirk pulled at his mouth. His dark eyes were glassy and blown from whatever he was on, but they gleamed with sharp, amused danger.

In one smooth, practiced motion, Jeff pulled his knife from his waistband and pressed the blade discreetly against the man’s stomach, hidden between their bodies so it wasn’t obviously waving a weapon around the club. Only the sleazy guy - and you - could feel the threat.

“Aw, c’mon now,” Jeff drawled, voice low, raspy, and mocking, loud enough to carry just between them and you. “You really out here groping girls who clearly don’t want your nasty fuckin’ hands on them? That’s pathetic as shit, man. Real bottom-of-the-barrel behavior.”

The guy sputtered, trying to shove Jeff off, face flushing with alcohol and fear. “The fuck, man? We were just dancing–”

Jeff’s smirk widened, pressing the knife a little firmer against the man’s gut, twisting the handle just enough for him to feel the sharp point through his shirt.

“Dancin’? That what you call it when a bitch is tellin’ you to fuck off and you still got your hands all over her ass?” Jeff chuckled darkly, tilting his head. His long hair shifted with the movement. “I should gut you right here like the sad little rapey fuck you are. Spill your guts all over this sticky floor while everyone keeps dancing. Bet no one would even notice.”

The sleazy guy’s eyes widened in panic. He went pale, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

Jeff didn’t give him time to recover. In a flash, he pulled the knife back and slammed a vicious punch into the man’s face. The crack of knuckles meeting nose was sickeningly loud. Blood exploded from the guy’s nostrils, spraying dark across his shirt as he stumbled backward with a pained, gurgling cry, hands flying up to clutch his bleeding face.

A few people nearby gasped and turned their heads, but the reaction was muted - most of the club was too drunk or high to care beyond a quick glance. The red lights kept flashing, the bass kept thumping. Just another Saturday night scuffle.

The bleeding man didn’t stick around. Terrified and humiliated, he turned and shoved desperately through the crowd, disappearing into the mass of bodies while clutching his broken nose.

Jeff casually wiped the blood from his knuckles onto his black shirt, leaving a dark smear, then glanced around at the few people still staring. His voice carried that same lazy, mocking drawl.

“The fuck are you idiots looking at? Mind your own goddamn business and keep dancing. Ain’t nothing to see here.”

The onlookers quickly averted their eyes and went back to their own hazy worlds. The club swallowed the incident whole.

Only then did Jeff turn fully toward you.

It took your fuzzy, euphoric brain a second to place him - Jared? No… John? No… Jeff. That’s it. The tall, scarred guy from the gas station. Andy’s big-spending client. The one who’d shamelessly flirted with you.

He stepped closer, towering over you in the pulsing red lights. Up close he looked even more dangerous - long black hair framing his sharp, scarred face, dark eyes blown wide. His smirk was pure smug satisfaction as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the view.

“Well, well… look who it is,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell cigarettes and cologne on him. “Harley. You good? That piece of shit didn’t get too handsy before I showed up?”

You struggled to keep it together. Your heart was hammering, the high making every sensation feel ten times stronger - the lingering ghost of those clammy hands on your hips, the sticky heat of the club, the way the red lights kept flashing across everything like nothing had happened. You swallowed hard and quickly ran your fingers through your messy, teased waves, trying to smooth them down. You tugged at the hem of your short black skirt, adjusting the glittery silver top that had shifted during the struggle. Your hands were still trembling slightly as you collected yourself.

Jeff watched you the entire time, that lazy smirk never leaving his face.

You forced a shaky little laugh, trying to play it cool. “Well… looks like the Joker just saved the day. Thanks for the dramatic entrance.”

Jeff let out a low, raspy chuckle, the sound vibrating through the space between you. His eyes dragged slowly up and down your body - lingering on the shimmer across your cleavage, the way your skirt sat on your hips - before flicking back up to your face. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You shrugged, still trying to steady your breathing. “I’m used to this kind of shit, honestly. Working the night shift at a gas station… you get all kinds of creeps thinking they can just grab whatever they want.”

Jeff nodded, stepping a little closer. The heat rolling off his body mixed with the thick, humid air of the club. The whole room was spinning - you hesitated for only a second before reaching out and holding onto his arm for balance, shaky fingers wrapping around his bicep.

He let you hold on, his smirk deepening as he leaned down, lips brushing close to your ear so you could hear him over the pounding music.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, voice laced with that mocking amusement. “You a little high right now?”

You nodded, biting your glossy lip as another warm wave from the pill rolled through you. “Yeah… I’m good,” you breathed, voice a little breathier than you intended. “Just… caught me off guard.”

Jeff hummed, clearly pleased. He stayed close, letting you keep your grip on his arm as the bass thumped around you. His free hand lightly brushed the hem of your short black skirt, fingers grazing the fabric.

“Fuck, I like this little skirt on you,” he said, voice dripping with appreciation. “Short enough to make a man lose his mind, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, that predatory grin widening. “C’mon, give me a little spin. Show me how it moves.”

You let out a surprised giggle, the tension from the sleazy guy already starting to melt. You held onto his arm for support and did a slow little spin. The black skirt flared out around your thighs, glitter sparkling wildly across your chest and collarbones under the flashing red lights. When you faced him again, you were smiling - genuinely this time.

Jeff’s dark eyes were locked on you the whole time, hungry and entertained. He let out another low chuckle and flexed his bicep under your grip.

“Goddamn. That’s dangerous, baby. You keep spinning like that and I might have to fight off more assholes tonight.”

The casual vulgarity, the smug way he carried himself - it should have felt overwhelming. But in your current state, with the pill buzzing warmly through your veins and the adrenaline from the incident fading, it felt… thrilling. Distracting. Exactly what you needed to push the memory of those unwanted hands out of your head.

For the first time since the guy had grabbed you, your mind was off what had just happened.

The red lights pulsed across Jeff’s face, highlighting the thin smile lines carved into his cheeks. For a moment he just drank you in - your flushed cheeks, the glitter sparkling on your cleavage, the way your skirt had flared and settled around your thighs.

Then his gaze drifted higher.

His smirk faltered for half a second as he zeroed in on the thin, pink cut along your throat. The shallow nick stood out under the flashing lights. Jeff’s expression shifted - something darker and more intrigued flickering behind his blown pupils. He lifted his free hand slowly, almost gently, and brushed his thumb gently along the edge of the cut, barely grazing the sensitive skin.

A low whistle escaped him under his breath.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, voice rough and raspy. His eyes snapped back up to yours, magnetic and intense, holding your gaze like he could see straight through the hazy high clouding your mind. It was as if everything had clicked into place for him in that single moment - the mark, the way you carried yourself tonight, the faint flush still on your skin.

His thumb stroked the cut again, feather-light, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You like it rough, huh?” he asked, the words low and vulgar, laced with that smug amusement.

You felt heat flood your face. The memory of Toby pressing the flat of his hatchet blade to your throat while he fucked you deep and desperate flashed through your mind, unbidden. You nodded, voice coming out soft and a little breathless. “Yeah…”

Jeff’s smirk widened into something almost feral. “You into knife play too?” He leaned in closer, thumb still tracing the edge of the shallow cut with careful fascination, like he was admiring someone else’s handiwork.

You shrugged, the high making it hard to filter your words. “Something like that,” you muttered, biting your glossy lip.

The look he gave you then was pure reverence - like you’d just blessed him personally. His dark eyes gleamed with fresh hunger, long black hair falling forward as he tilted his head. “Fuck, Harley… you just keep getting more interesting.” His thumb pressed a little firmer against the cut, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it. The touch was appreciative, and dangerously intimate in the middle of the crowded club.

Thoughts of Toby slammed into you all at once.

The way he’d looked at you in the clearing - desperate and feral after you’d held his hatchet. The cold steel against your throat while he railed you from behind. The way he’d cum so hard he accidentally nicked you, then panicked and kissed it afterward like he was terrified he’d actually hurt you. Guilt twisted sharp and sudden in your chest, cutting through the euphoric buzz. This mark wasn’t just some random thing. It was Toby’s. Raw and intense and private.

You gently caught Jeff’s wrist and pushed his hand away from your throat, your fingers lingering for a second before letting go. You bit your lip harder, suddenly unsure what to say, the words tangling in your hazy mind.

Before you could find them, an exasperated voice cut through the pulsing music.

“Jeff, what the fuck, man? I turn around for two seconds and you disappear again–”

A guy appeared almost out of nowhere, holding two plastic cups of alcohol in his hands. He elbowed Jeff’s arm roughly, nearly spilling the drinks.

The newcomer was blonde, much shorter than Jeff, and wearing an oversized 2Pac shirt that hung loose on his frame, paired with baggy pants and a beanie pulled low despite the sweltering heat of the club. He looked cute in a disheveled, ridiculous sort of way. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were huge, clearly just as high as Jeff, but unlike Jeff’s relaxed confidence, this guy looked nervous and on edge. His gaze flicked between you and Jeff with obvious irritation.

He shoved one of the plastic cups into Jeff’s hand, his voice tight and exasperated as he tried to be heard over the pounding music.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, dude. You can’t just leave me alone in this fucking crowd.”

Jeff took the drink with a lazy grin, completely unbothered. He shrugged one broad shoulder, long black hair shifting as he glanced between you and the blonde.

“Calm down, Benny. I just got distracted,” he said, nodding toward you with a smirk.

The new guy finally seemed to register your presence fully. His bloodshot eyes gave you a quick once-over, lingering for a second on your glittery top and cleavage before he flushed red and looked away awkwardly.

Jeff nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t be rude, introduce yourself.”

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh… I’m Ben,” he muttered, offering his hand.

You shook it, your palm still a little clammy from the earlier incident. “Nice to meet you. I’m–” You gave him your name, then added with a small smile, “Andy’s been talking about you, by the way.”

That seemed to catch Ben’s attention. His eyes widened slightly behind the haze. “Wait, you know Andy?”

“Yeah, he’s my coworker,” you replied, still holding onto Jeff’s arm for balance as the club spun pleasantly around you.

Ben nodded, looking a bit more relaxed. “Cool, cool.”

While you were talking, Jeff lazily reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie of fine white powder. Without any attempt at subtlety, he poured a generous amount straight into his plastic cup, swirling it with a finger before handing the drink over to you.

“Can’t let the lady be thirsty,” he said with that same smug, mocking grin.

You gave him a pointed look - half-annoyed, half-amused - but the high made it hard to care as much as you probably should. You took the cup and sipped anyway. The fruity alcohol masked most of the taste, but you felt the sharp chemical kick almost immediately, a new rush blooming hot and fast in your chest. The world sharpened and softened at the same time.

You lowered the cup and turned back to Ben, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor. “Some idiot just grabbed me a minute ago. Wouldn’t let go even when I told him to fuck off. Jeff… handled it.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Dude, no way,” he gasped. He glanced at the blood smear on Jeff’s shirt, then back at you. “You okay?”

For a brief moment he actually seemed to relax into the conversation, the shared chaos pulling him out of his own head. But it didn’t last long. His shoulders stayed tense, eyes darting around at the pulsing crowd like it might swallow him whole. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clutching his own cup tighter.

“Jeff, I wanna leave,” he said, voice tight. “You tricked me into coming here and my claustrophobia is kicking in hard. I fucking hate crowds.”

Jeff just ignored him at first, sipping from his own spiked drink and watching you with that predatory glint in his eyes, clearly more interested in the way you were still holding his arm than in Ben’s panic.

You felt a little bad for Ben - he looked genuinely on edge, nervous and overwhelmed despite being high. His face was flushed, beanie slightly askew, and he kept glancing toward the exit like it was his only lifeline. The poor guy was clearly way out of his element.

“Hey,” you said, raising your voice over the music and giving him a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t we step outside for some fresh air? Get away from the crowd for a bit.”

Ben gave you a genuinely thankful look, nodding quickly. “Yes. Please.”

Jeff sighed dramatically, tilting his head back before downing the rest of his drink in one go. He crushed the cup and tossed it somewhere behind him.

“Fine,” he said, waving a hand. “Lead the way.”

You led the way through the packed dance floor, the red lights still swirling around you as the high made everything feel a little dreamlike. Jeff stayed right behind you, and Ben trailed a few steps behind, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

You pushed the heavy door open at the top and stepped out into the cool night air. The sudden drop in temperature was refreshing and sobering after the suffocating heat of the club. You leaned back against the brick wall just outside the entrance, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to steady your spinning thoughts. Your head was scrambling, a dizzy mix of alcohol, the pill, the spiked drink, and the overwhelming bass still echoing faintly in your ears.

Jeff stepped up beside you, leaning one shoulder against the wall. Ben, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life. He took several deep, shaky breaths, muttering a string of curse words under his breath as he paced a small circle, trying to collect himself.

You glanced over at Jeff and asked quietly, “Is he… alright?”

Jeff chuckled, low and raspy, glancing at his friend with clear amusement. “Yeah, he just gets a little anxious around people. It’s fine.”

Ben shot him a dirty look and flipped him off. “Fuck you, man.” He finally straightened up, still breathing hard. “You promised me a chill night at the strip club, not this fucking insane overcrowded hellhole.”

Jeff just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Andy sent me the invite. Figured it’d be fun to drag your ass out of the house for once.”

Ben groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, you didn’t have to fucking trick me, dude. I just wanted to see some ass, you told me–” Then his expression shifted. He went pale.

“I’m… feeling kinda sick,” he muttered.

You raised your eyebrows, a little concerned. “Please don’t throw up–”

Too late.

Ben suddenly bolted a few feet away to the other side of the wall and doubled over, vomiting violently onto the pavement. The sounds were loud and grotesque in the quiet night air. His whole body shook with each wave.

It was honestly ridiculous. Almost comic.

You stared for a second, then couldn’t help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped you. Jeff was outright grinning, shaking his head at his friend’s misfortune like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all night.

Ben stayed hunched over for a long moment, spitting and cursing weakly between heaves, one hand braced against the brick wall for support.

While Ben was still recovering, you reached into your small bag and pulled out two cigarettes. You lit them both with a quick flick of your lighter, the flame briefly illuminating your face in the dim streetlight. You handed one to Jeff.

He took it with a small nod, his fingers brushing yours. For a moment the two of you stood in silence, smoking. You watched as he brought the cigarette to his lips, his sharp jaw flexing, cheeks hollowing as he took a slow, deep drag.

Jeff caught you staring. His dark eyes met yours through the haze of smoke, that smug smirk tugging at his lips again. You cleared your throat and quickly looked away, focusing instead on the ground.

Ben finally straightened up with a long, miserable groan. He spat one last time onto the pavement, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and shuffled back over to you and Jeff. His baggy pants were sagging even lower now, and his beanie was slightly askew, revealing strands of surprisingly long, messy blonde hair underneath.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, clearly ashamed. His face was flushed, eyes still bloodshot. “I’m never leaving the house again. This was a mistake.”

You chuckled softly, the high making the whole thing feel less gross and more absurdly funny. You rooted around in your small bag for a second before pulling out a pack of gum. You handed him a piece with a sympathetic smile.

Ben took it gratefully, nodding. “Thanks… seriously.”

You tried to smooth over the awkwardness, leaning back against the cool brick wall. “It’s fine, really. Parties can get overwhelming. It’s not really my thing either–I’m just here to support Andy.”

Ben took out his vape from his pocket, fiddling with it for a second before taking a long pull. Sweet-smelling vapor mixed with the cigarette smoke as he exhaled, joining the hazy cloud the three of you were creating in the cool night air. He still looked shaky but slightly more grounded now that he was outside and had something to occupy his hands.

Jeff smoked slowly, his gaze drifting back to the thin cut on your throat. He eyed it with open interest, the red cherry of his cigarette glowing as he exhaled another plume of smoke into the cool night air.

“So,” he drawled, voice low and raspy, “where’s your man tonight?”

You rolled your eyes a little, taking a drag from your own cigarette. The smoke burned pleasantly in your lungs. “He’s busy,” you muttered.

Jeff chuckled, the sound dark and amused. “The mystery man is always busy, huh?” He tilted his head, long black hair shifting over his shoulder as he studied you. “Funny how that works.”

You hummed, biting your glossy lip as thoughts of Toby flooded back in - the fight in the woods, the way he’d grabbed your arm, the hurt and anger in his eyes when you walked away. The high and alcohol were making everything feel heavier, more emotional than it should.

Jeff leaned one shoulder more comfortably against the brick wall, still watching you. “If he’s as armed and dangerous as you described him last time, he should be here with you, right? Protecting what’s his. Making sure shit like that fucker inside doesn’t happen.”

Ben looked between the two of you, trying to follow the conversation while still vaping nervously, his bloodshot eyes darting around.

You sighed, shrugging as you took one last long drag from your cigarette before dropping it and crushing it under your heel. The cool night air brushed against your bare legs, but the warmth from the substances in your system kept you flushed. Thinking about Toby right now - after everything that happened in the clearing, after the fight, after Jeff stepping in like that - made your chest feel tight. Your eyes stung unexpectedly.

“Stop prying, Jeff,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Jeff chuckled again, low and teasing. “Ooh, hit a nerve there, did I?”

Ben shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe she doesn’t wanna talk about it, man…”

“It’s fine,” you insisted, even as your voice wavered. You crossed your arms over your glittery top, suddenly feeling exposed. “We just… got into a fight earlier. That’s all. Nothing crazy.”

The words hung in the air. You tried to hold it together, but it was hard. Your eyes started to water. You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat and looking away toward the empty street.

Ben and Jeff shared a quick look - a classic oh shit, emotional girl look. Neither of them seemed to know what to do with it. Jeff’s smirk faltered for a second, while Ben looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

You took a deep breath, forcing the tears back. “It’s for the best he wasn’t here anyway,” you added, trying to sound casual. “If he was, he would’ve killed that guy. Like… actually.”

Ben actually let out a surprised laugh, the sound a little hysterical from the high. “Hey, don’t underestimate Jeff here. He was probably just feeling nice tonight.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, the absurdity cutting through the emotion for a moment. They had no idea. No idea that your boyfriend was actually a killer who carried hatchets and lived with other murderers.

“Well… you don’t know my boyfriend,” you said, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips.

Jeff seemed a little challenged by that. He lazily reached out and touched your shoulder, his fingers warm against your skin as he smirked down at you. “You don’t know me either, baby.”

You giggled, humming sarcastically. “Oookay, I believe you. Guess I’m just surrounded by killers.”

Ben and Jeff made eye contact and burst out laughing - Jeff’s laugh low and raspy, Ben’s more hysterical and uncontrolled, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. You blinked, smiling in confusion. You didn’t know what exactly was so funny, but their laughter was contagious enough that you found yourself grinning along.

Jeff took another drag from his cigarette, still smirking. “I’d love to meet that mystery man one day.”

Ben added with a snort, “Yeah, that’d be one hell of a dick sizing contest.”

Your phone buzzed in your bag.

Your heart jumped. For a second you thought it might be Toby - maybe an apology, maybe asking where you were, something. You quickly pulled it out, but the screen showed Andy’s name instead.

Andy:

where u at?

You typed back fast: Right outside

Andy:

omw

You slipped your phone back into your bag and leaned a little more comfortably against the brick wall, the cool night air helping clear some of the fog in your head, and asked, “So… how do you two know each other?”

Ben answered first, still chewing his gum. “We’ve known each other forever. We’re roomies.”

You nodded with a small smile. “That’s nice. Do you guys live nearby?”

“Yeah, pretty near,” Ben muttered, glancing off toward the street. “Out by the woods…” He trailed off, then quickly changed the subject, his voice picking up a bit more energy. “You like to game at all?”

You shrugged, your movements loose and slow. “A little. I’m not super into it, but I’ll play sometimes.”

That was all Ben needed.

His face lit up a little and he launched into a surprisingly passionate rant. “Dude, gaming is the best. I’ve been grinding this new open-world RPG that just dropped–the graphics are insane, the storytelling is actually decent for once, and the combat system–” He went on for a solid minute, hands gesturing animatedly as he talked about builds, lore, and why certain games were superior. His social anxiety seemed to melt away now that he was on familiar ground and away from the suffocating crowd inside.

You smiled softly, finding it genuinely cute. He looked so much more relaxed out here, long blonde hair messy under his crooked beanie, eyes bright despite being bloodshot. It was a nice contrast to how panicked he’d been just minutes ago.

All the while, Jeff stayed quiet, watching you.

His dark eyes never really left your face. After a moment, he casually reached out and started toying with a strand of your hair, twirling the glossy, teased lock around his finger. The gesture was slow, his knuckles brushing lightly against your shoulder. He listened to Ben’s rant with mild amusement, but his attention was clearly on you - the way his gaze lingered on your lips, your glittery top, your throat.

You felt the weight of his stare like a physical touch.

Ben was still mid-sentence about some boss fight when Jeff finally spoke, voice low and teasing, still playing with your hair.

“You’re a good listener,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over Ben’s enthusiastic rambling. “Most girls would’ve tuned him out by now.”

Ben paused, noticing what Jeff was doing, and rolled his eyes. “Dude, I heard that.”

You couldn’t help the small, hazy laugh that escaped you, caught between Ben’s endearing nerdiness and Jeff’s shameless flirting.

Jeff chuckled, still twirling that strand of your hair around his finger. “Sorry, nerd,” he teased Ben, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to steal the spotlight from your epic gaming lecture.”

Ben rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at his mouth.

Before you could respond, the club door swung open again.

Andy stepped out, the loud music spilling into the night for a brief second before the door shut again. His buzzcut was slightly sweaty from the heat inside, tattoos gleaming under the streetlight as he grinned at the sight of you and Jeff standing way too close together. He took in the whole scene - you leaning against the wall, Jeff’s hand still playing with your hair..

“There you are, dude!” Andy said, grabbing your arm lightly and pulling you into a quick side hug.

You greeted him happily, the high making your voice warm and bubbly. “Hey! Finally done?”

Andy clapped hands with Jeff in that casual bro-way, then his eyes landed on Ben. Something clicked. His eyes went wide.

“Dude… no fucking way. Is this Ben?” He looked back and forth between Jeff and the blonde guy like he couldn’t believe it.

Ben laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Jeff just smirked, clearly entertained. “Yeah man, finally managed to drag his ass out of the house.”

Andy let out a genuine laugh and stepped forward, pulling Ben into a quick, enthusiastic hug. “Holy shit, it’s so nice to finally meet you, man! This is so cool. My most loyal customer!”

Ben grinned, clapping Andy on the back. “Yeah… well, I was promised strippers and instead I got dragged to this crowded hellhole.”

Andy barked out another laugh. “Ohhh yeah, you got some social anxiety, right? That’s cool, dude. I’m happy you made it one way or another.”

The three of them fell into easy, casual bro-talk - teasing, laughing, inside jokes flying around. You found the whole thing oddly cute through the warm haze of the high. You smiled softly, tugging at the hem of your short black skirt and leaning back against the cool brick wall as you watched them.

Andy eventually turned and threw his tattooed arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. “So… have these two been nice to my favorite coworker?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You chuckled and leaned into him comfortably. “Mostly.” Then you glanced over at Jeff, giving him an appreciative look. “Actually, Jeff saved me in there. Some sleazy asshole wouldn’t keep his hands off me. Jeff stepped in and handled it.”

Andy’s eyes widened. “Woah, respect man,” he said, looking at Jeff with genuine appreciation and giving him a solid fist bump. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you one.” He turned to you, his arm still around your shoulders, concern flickering across his face. “You okay though? For real?”

You nodded, offering a small but reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks to Jeff.”

Jeff just shrugged one broad shoulder, that signature smug smirk tugging at his scarred mouth. “Wasn’t a big deal,” he said casually. “Couldn’t let some pathetic fuck ruin your night.”

You smiled at him again, warm and genuine, the high making the moment feel softer than it probably should. Jeff’s dark eyes met yours, holding the look for a beat longer than necessary.

Ben, meanwhile, stayed quiet. He just smoked his vape steadily, the sweet vapor curling around him as his bloodshot eyes kept flicking over to you - watching the way you leaned into Andy, the way you smiled at Jeff, the faint cut on your throat. He didn’t say much, but his gaze lingered.

Andy was grinning ear to ear, clearly buzzing from both the gig and the surprise of finally meeting Ben. He kept his tattooed arm slung casually around your shoulders as he spoke, clearly excited.

“Man, this is wild. I’ve been wondering who the fuck this Ben guy was for months,” he said, looking at Ben with genuine amusement. “You’re a legend online, dude. The way you carry in those games? Insane. And then you’re the same dude hitting me up every week for the biggest orders I get, always sending them to some sketchy-ass address out in the woods like you’re running from the feds or something.”

Ben let out a genuine laugh, exhaling smoke. His beanie was still a little crooked. “Yeah… I don’t really go out much. It’s just not my thing. Easier to stay in and game.”

“I get it, I get it,” Andy nodded, understanding. “But we should all link up sometime for real. Not just business shit. My place isn’t bad–got a decent setup, big TV, plenty of space. We could run some games or whatever.”

Jeff, still leaning against the wall beside you, smirked. “I’m in,” he said casually, eyes sliding over to you, “but only if she’s there too.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder lightly, laughing despite yourself. “Shut up.”

Andy barked out a loud laugh, squeezing your shoulders. “See? Jeff’s playing a losing game. She’s veeeery in love with her man. Like, stupidly in love. You should see the way she lights up talking about him at work.”

Your cheeks burned. You blushed hard, the high making the warmth spread even faster across your face. Still, you nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Mhm… you got that right.”

Jeff muttered something low and cocky under his breath as he looked at you with that half-lidded stare. “We’ll see about that.”

You shook your head, smiling wider as you leaned a little more into Andy’s side. The whole interaction felt strangely easy and chaotic at the same time. Everything felt a little softer around the edges, the red glow from the club door spilling out and painting the sidewalk in shifting crimson tones.

Ben took another hit and passed the vape to Andy, who accepted it with a grateful nod. The conversation drifted naturally - Andy asking Ben what games he’d been playing lately, Ben explaining some new mechanics, Jeff occasionally throwing in lazy, sarcastic comments while his eyes kept drifting back to you.

Andy eventually checked the time on his phone and nodded toward the club door. “Aight, we heading back inside or what?”

Ben immediately shook his head, laughing nervously. “No fucking way, man. I’m good out here.”

Jeff smirked and slung a long arm around Ben’s shoulders, towering over the shorter guy as he looked between you and Andy.

“Guess I’m keeping my promise,” Jeff said, voice low and amused. “I’m taking him to the strip club like I said I would.” He glanced at you, that cocky grin widening. “You’re more than welcome to join, Harley.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah… not happening. Gross.”

Andy grinned down at you, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders. “You heard the lady. I’ll be keeping her company for tonight.”

You said your goodbyes. Ben, still looking a little flushed but more relaxed now that he was outside and the night air had helped, gave you a shy smile. You stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, friendly goodbye hug. Ben stiffened for half a second in surprise before awkwardly patting your back, his baggy 2Pac shirt bunching up under your arms.

Ben and Andy then launched into their own long, drawn-out goodbye - clapping hands, laughing about future gaming sessions, Andy hyping Ben up about finally leaving the house, and Ben muttering complaints about crowds and how he was never doing this again. The two of them went back and forth for a solid minute, typical bro small-talk that stretched longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, Jeff wasn’t about to let you slip away so easily.

Before you could fully step back, he pulled you into a cocky little side hug, one strong arm wrapping around your waist and tugging you against his side. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he spoke low enough for only you to hear.

“If you wanna show your gratitude for me saving your ass tonight,” he murmured, voice raspy and smug, “you should give me your number.”

He didn’t wait for a proper answer. Jeff shoved his phone - screen badly cracked in multiple places - straight into your hands, that lazy, predatory smirk firmly in place as he watched you.

You looked down at the phone, then up at him, narrowing your eyes in playful thought. “You really don’t waste any time, do you?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

Jeff just shrugged, still holding you loosely in the side hug. “What can I say, life's short.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. After a moment’s hesitation, you typed your number in and saved the contact under harley (who has an armed boyfriend). You handed the phone back to him with a pointed look.

Jeff read the contact name and let out a low, raspy chuckle, clearly amused. “Cute. Real cute.”

You gave him a small, warning smile. “Don’t text me.”

Jeff played along perfectly, raising both hands in mock innocence as he pocketed the phone. “Oh don’t worry,” he drawled, smirking wider, “wasn’t planning on it.”

You shook your head, laughing softly despite yourself.

Jeff finally released you from the side hug, giving your waist one last light squeeze before stepping back. He clapped hands with Andy in a quick goodbye, then slung an arm around Ben’s shoulders, already teasing him again about “surviving the night” as the two of them started walking off down the sidewalk.

You and Andy stood there for a second, watching them disappear around the corner. Then you both looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time.

“Damn… that really just happened,” you said, still giggling as you leaned against the wall.

Andy shook his head, grinning. “I can’t believe Ben actually came out. And Jeff being Jeff, of course.”

You jokingly shoved his shoulder. “This is your fault, by the way. Why would you invite Jeff to your set? He’s so persistent, oh my God.”

Andy laughed harder, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, he pays well and he’s entertaining. I didn’t think he’d zero in on you that hard. My bad.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. The high made everything feel warm and funny instead of stressful.

“C’mon,” Andy said, throwing his arm around your shoulders again. “Let me buy you another drink.”

You nodded and the two of you headed back inside, pushing through the heavy door and down the red-painted stairs. The heat and bass hit you all over again, but this time it felt comforting having Andy beside you.

He kept his arm loosely around your shoulders as he guided you through the crowd toward the bar. He ordered a strong mixed drink for you and nothing for himself. When the bartender slid the glass across the counter, you raised an eyebrow at Andy.

“You’re not having one?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “Staying sober tonight. I’m on the clock, plus I drove here. Somebody’s gotta get your ass home safe.”

You hummed in appreciation and took the drink from the bartender, thanking him quietly before taking a sip. The sweetness mixed with the burn felt good. You turned back to Andy.

“Cool. You owe me a ride, man, I’m high as fuck right now,” you said with a playful glare, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Which is your fault, by the way. That pill was no joke.”

Andy grinned wide, not even pretending to feel guilty. “I knew you needed to relax and have a good time. You’ve been stressed lately. Admit it, you’re feeling better, right?”

You laughed, the sound bright and a little hazy, and nodded. “Yeah… okay, fine. I am.”

You sipped your drink while leaning against the bar, the alcohol and pill blending into a warm, floaty euphoria. The music thumped through your body as you swayed lightly in place. Andy stayed close, chatting with you between tracks, but people kept coming up to him - some clients slipping him cash or quick words, others just friends hyping him up about the set.

You didn’t mind. You drifted a little away from the bar and danced on your own again, moving to the heavy beat. Your black skirt swished around your thighs, glitter sparkling across your chest every time the lights hit you.

A couple of girls from earlier even found you again on the dance floor and pulled you back into their group for a bit, all of you laughing and dancing together in that loose, drunk way. You let yourself enjoy it fully - no overthinking, no guilt about Toby for these few minutes.

Andy eventually rejoined you after his set wrapped up, sweaty and smiling as he bumped your hip with his.

“You good?” he asked, loud enough to be heard over the music.

You nodded, grinning, the world tilting pleasantly around you. “Yeah… I’m good.”

You chatted with Andy for a little while longer, laughing and half-dancing in place as the music continued to thump around you. The high and drinks had you feeling warm and loose, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Eventually you leaned into his side and said, “I think I’m ready to head home if that’s cool with you.”

Andy nodded immediately, flashing you that easy, familiar grin. “Of course. Let’s get you home.”

He said quick goodbyes to a few people on the way out - clapping hands with some guys near the stairs, giving a nod and a half-hug to a girl who worked at the club, and shouting a final “good set!” to someone else. Then the two of you pushed through the heavy door and back out into the cool night air.

The parking lot wasn’t far, but the walk felt endless in your current state. You were drunker than you realized. Your heels kept catching on cracks in the pavement, making you stumble every few steps. Your feet were killing you now - sore and aching from hours of dancing. Andy noticed and slowed his pace, letting you lean on him for support as you made your way to his car.

His ride was exactly what you’d expect: an old, beat-up sedan with scratches along the side, a slightly dented bumper, and faded paint. It was messy inside too, but it was so him.

Andy unlocked the passenger door first and held it open for you like a gentleman. You mumbled a thanks and slid into the seat, sighing in relief as you kicked your heels off immediately. The car smelled faintly of weed and fast food, but it felt safe.

He jogged around to the driver’s side, dropped in, and started the engine. The car rumbled to life with a familiar, slightly rough sound. He glanced over at you with a soft smile as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“You good?” he asked, voice gentler now that you were away from the noise.

You nodded, leaning your head back against the seat as the streetlights blurred past the window. “Yeah… thanks for the ride. And for inviting me tonight. I needed it.”

The drive home was quiet and comfortable. Andy kept the music low, some chill playlist humming through the speakers while you stared out at the passing scenery, the high slowly softening into a warm, sleepy buzz. Your mind drifted back to Toby for a moment, but you pushed the thought away. Not tonight.

You were safe, you were with Andy, and you were finally heading home.

Eventually, Andy glanced over at you, keeping one hand on the wheel. His voice was casual, but you could tell he was curious.

“So… why’d you come alone tonight?” he asked. “What happened to bandana boy? I figured he’d tag along.”

You sighed, fingers idly toying with the hem of your short black skirt. The glitter on your top caught the passing lights as you shifted in your seat.

“We… got into a fight earlier today,” you admitted, keeping it short. You didn’t want to go into too much detail, but the alcohol and the lingering high made you more open than usual. “It was about this. He didn’t want me to come. Got really jealous about me hanging out with you and everything.”

Andy nodded slowly, eyes staying on the road. “Shit… that sucks. I get it though. Some guys get weird about that stuff.”

You hummed, staring out the window. It was hard to talk about Toby. You couldn’t exactly tell Andy the full truth - that your boyfriend was a wanted killer who lived with his psycho buddies. You had to carefully pick your words.

“The bandana thing… it’s there for a reason,” you said quietly. “It makes it hard for him to be social. He has some… issues.”

Andy hummed in understanding, glancing at you again. “Like what? Is he ugly or something?” he teased lightly, trying to keep the mood from getting too heavy.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No. Not at all.”

You paused, chewing on your lip as you chose your next words. The alcohol made everything feel a little easier to say.

“He has a pretty big scar on his face,” you said gently. “I don’t even know how he got it. I’ve been trying to be patient and not push him with too many questions, you know? But today I realized… he’s really insecure about it. Like, deeper than I thought.”

Andy stayed quiet for a moment, processing. His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.

“Damn,” he said eventually. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s got some shit going on. You okay though? After the fight, I mean.”

You shrugged, still playing with the edge of your skirt. “I don’t know. I was really pissed at him earlier. He said some shitty stuff. But… I still feel bad. I like him a lot, Andy. It’s just complicated.”

Andy was quiet for a moment, eyes on the dark road ahead as he thought about what you’d said. The low music played softly in the background while the car hummed along the familiar route back to your house.

“Toby’s lucky to have someone like you, you know,” he said finally, his voice careful and sincere. “For real. It can be a little hard sometimes for guys to be with someone who’s as open and friendly as you are. Especially if they’ve got their own shit going on.”

He chose his words thoughtfully, not wanting to overstep, but the message landed. It gave you a small, reluctant glimpse into Toby’s perspective - the insecurity, the fear of not being enough. You hadn’t really considered how your easy friendship with Andy might look from the outside to someone as damaged and possessive as Toby.

Andy continued, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re probably already doing a great job, but… maybe hype him up a little more. Make him feel appreciated. Chosen. Some guys need that extra push in the right direction, even if they act like they don’t.”

You nodded slowly, staring down at your hands in your lap. “Yeah… I’ll try. Thanks, Andy. For listening, I mean.”

“No problem,” he said with a small smile, glancing over at you. “You deserve to have a good time without drama. But I get it, relationships are messy.”

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence. Before long, Andy turned into your driveway and put the car in park. He looked over at you with a playful grin.

“Alright, here we are. Door-to-door service, ma’am.”

You laughed softly and unbuckled your seatbelt. “Thank you for the ride. Seriously. And for tonight. I had fun, even with everything.”

You leaned over and gave him a warm, grateful hug. He hugged you back tightly for a second, patting your back.

“Anytime. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, pulling away. “See you tomorrow.”

You stepped out of the car, barefoot now with your heels dangling from your fingers. The cool night air felt nice against your flushed skin. You waved as Andy backed out of the driveway, his headlights sweeping across your house before he drove off down the quiet street.

You stood there for a moment in your driveway, watching his taillights disappear. The house looked dark and quiet. The high was starting to fade into a heavy, sleepy buzz, and the events of the day - the fight with Toby, the club, Jeff saving you, Andy’s advice - all swirled together in your mind.

With a tired sigh, you walked up to your front door, keys in hand, ready to finally go inside and crash.

You walked up the path to your front door, heels dangling from your fingers, steps a little unsteady.

Then your heart nearly stopped.

The door was slightly open.

Just a crack - barely noticeable, but enough. You knew you had locked it. You’d double-checked the deadbolt before leaving. You always did.

A bucket of ice-cold panic slammed into you, cutting through the alcohol and the fading high like a knife. Your stomach dropped. Your hands started shaking as you stood frozen on your porch, staring at that small gap of darkness inside your house.

What the fuck…?

You thought about calling the police. Your phone was already in your hand. But then another thought hit you - What if it’s Toby?

You swallowed hard, breath shallow. Part of you hoped it was him. Another, smarter part was terrified that it was.

Taking a slow, careful breath, you stepped forward and gently pushed the door open the rest of the way. The hinges creaked softly. You slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind you just in case.

The house was dark and quiet. Too quiet.

You took a few silent steps forward, heart hammering against your ribs, and peered around the corner into the living room.

There he was.

Toby sat on your couch, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. His messy brown hair was even more disheveled than usual, his dark eyes staring at nothing in particular. The twin hatchets rested on the coffee table in front of him, catching what little moonlight came through the window. He looked… unsettling. Like a predator waiting patiently in the dark.

The second his gaze lifted and landed on you, the air in the room grew heavier.

“You actually went,” he said, voice low and cold. No stammer this time. Just flat disappointment and something sharper underneath. “Even after I told you not to.”

Your stomach twisted. The lingering warmth from the club evaporated completely. You stood there in your glittery top and short black skirt, suddenly feeling exposed and ridiculous under his stare.

Toby’s neck twitched sharply to the side with a quiet crack. His dark eyes slowly dragged over you - taking in your messy hair, the smudged makeup, the way you still smelled faintly like smoke, alcohol, and the club.

Fuck.

Trending Blogs

Last Seen Blogs

Filthy Girl